


What A Smile Can Hide

by MiraculousBookworm02



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Murder, Other, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraculousBookworm02/pseuds/MiraculousBookworm02
Summary: Jack stood in front of his bathroom mirror; his face wet from splashing water on it. He examined his reflection, looking at his darker pair of eyes curiously. It was then when he first heard the voice...





	1. Voices

"But THANK-YOU guys, SO much for watching! And if you liked it, PUNCH that like button, IN the face, LIKE A BOSS! And, high fives all round. *Wapish, wapish*. But THANK-YOU guys, and I'll see all you dudes, IN THE NEXT VIDEO!" Jacksepticeye screeched at the top of his lungs.

He finished recording, and began editing the video.

So far, it was looking great. The sound quality was good, and the images weren't blurry in places. It was a decent video, he concluded, up until he closely examined his eyes.

〰

He posted the video a few minutes later than usual, but no one suspected anything. His fans watched the video, got a few laughs here and there, then went back to their lives. No one noticed that his eyes were a darker shade of blue.

〰

Jack stood in front of his bathroom mirror; his face wet from splashing water on it. He examined his reflection, looking at his darker pair of eyes curiously. _How long have they been like that?_ he wondered. It was then when he first heard the voice.

**_Hello, Jack._ **

Jack backed away from the mirror, his hands gripping his head in shock.

_Who the fuck said that?_

A low chuckle permeated the deathly silence. Jack shivered uncomfortably.

**_I believe this is the first time we've talked. Allow me to introduce myself._ **

_Am I losing it?_

Upon thinking that, there was another chuckle; this one more menacing than the first.

_**I am Antisepticeye, but you can call me Anti.** _

Jack took his hands off his head and looked around the bathroom, searching for the person who was talking to him. The voice couldn't be inside his head, right?

"Where are you?" Jack whispered, after finding no one in his proximity.

**_In your head._ **

There was a pause, and Jack contemplated his sanity when he heard the next few words.

**_But not for long._ **


	2. Split

Jack wasn't the same after that. The voice, or Anti, as he called himself, would occasionally talk to him; Jack didn't answer back. He didn't want to lose any more of his sanity.

He kept uploading his videos, though. He didn't want anyone to think something was wrong. _Wrong with me_ Jack corrected himself.

Anti often interrupted his thoughts with gruesome words that made Jack clench his teeth in disgust. Sometimes an image would materialise in his head, and he desperately tried to rid his mind of dead, tortured bodies and dark, threatening eyes that stared directly into your soul. And the hardest part of it all, was to pretend it never happened.

〰

Jack had heard the voice for a month now, and he couldn't take it anymore. He desperately needed answers. _Why is there a voice in my head? What does Anti want from me?  Is this normal?_ He smirked despondently. _Of course it's not normal. People don't have conversations in their heads._

**_But we are having one right now, aren't we, Jack?_ **

Jack huffed in annoyance and rubbed his temples gently.

_Can you read my mind now?_ he thought disbelievingly.

A sickly laugh engulfed Jack's mind; it was becoming a regularity.

**_I have always been able to read your mind. We share the same body, after all._ **

He didn't follow. _What does he mean by "share the same body"?_

**_Why don't you just ask me?_ **

Jack sighed unknowingly. _This is gonna take a while to get used to._

**_You will learn to accept me sooner or later. Sooner, I hope, for your sake..._ **

He sat up a little straighter. _What do you mean by that?_

Anti ignored his query and went back to the previous question.

_**I am you, Jack. A part of you, at least. Some would call me your "dark side", but in reality, we are two sides of the same coin. You cannot have one without the other; as messed up as it is, we complete each other.** _

Jack pondered over this new information, but ended up getting more questions than answers.

_So, we're like, split personalities?_

**_In a way, yes. Only one of us can control our body at a time, though. And currently, you are in control._ **

Jack didn't know he was holding his breath until he heard the word 'control'. He breathed out slowly, and tried processing the information before asking any more questions.

_So, what ARE you, exactly?_

Jack could imagine Anti smirking devilishly when he tauntingly murmured the next two sentences.

_**I am your inner demon. And there is no escape from me.** _


	3. Eyes

Jack finished recording the video, and sat back in his chair. _I'll edit it later_ he thought to himself. Now, he had some free time to do whatever he liked.

**_Jack._ **

Seeing no other option, Jack answered Anti.

_Yes?_

**_You know how I told you that only one of us can be in control at a time?_ **

Jack recollected the conversation clearly.

_Yeah..._

**_Well, can I be in control now?_ **

He didn't fancy that idea.

_What do you plan on doing while in control?_

Anti hesitated before answering, diminishing Jack's level of trust in him.

**_Just some walking around, getting used to my body; you know, normal stuff._ **

Jack's train of thought stopped.

_Seriously, that's it?_ he exclaimed.

**_Yeah, well I've never really been in control before... so, yeah._ **

Anti seemed almost sad when he confessed this, so Jack reconsidered his decision.

_You promise you won't be in control for long?_

Anti was almost too giddy with his victory, and he nearly blurt out his real intentions in front of Jack.

**_I'll be in and out; you won't even notice I k- was there!_ **

_Ok, but you better not do anything stupid._

And Jack allowed himself to lose control.

〰

Anti smirked malevolently; he was the one in charge now. He could almost taste Jack's fear; how Anti wished he could see his panic settle in, at not being able to do anything but talk and watch.

**_He better get used to it._ **

_Hey!_

Anti mentally smacked himself in the head. Now that he was in control, Jack would be able to hear his thoughts. And he couldn't hear Jack's.

_**Damn. Well, no use crying over spilt blood.** _

_Wait, WHAT!_

Jack realised his mistake. The words and images Anti had echoed through his head weren't threats; they were desires. Anti's desires. He didn't only want control; that was just a stepping stone to his ultimate goal.  
Anti walked over to the kitchen, and began looking through the cutlery. Jack could only watch in horror as he selected the longest, sharpest knife available and examined it closely. He ran his finger along the blade, and sighed.

_**Not as sharp as I would have liked, but it will have to do.** _

Jack stopped breathing.

_Why do you want to hurt someone?_

Anti ignored Jack. He pocketed the knife in his trousers and strolled over to the door, without a care in the world. Meanwhile, Jack didn't know what to do. Try to regain control? Persuade Anti that this was a bad idea? Or just, stand back and watch? _No, I can't just let him leave. I need to do something!_

_Anti! Listen to me. You'll give us a bad name if you go out and stab someone; the police will catch us in minutes!_ Jack reasoned.

Anti laughed lightly, and cocked his head to the side.

**_Then I'll make sure we don't get caught._ **

And with that, Anti left his apartment, and went out for his first kill.

〰

Jack felt hopeless. No matter how many times he screamed at Anti to stop, or tried to regain control of his body, he remained nothing but a voice in his head. And the worst part was that he could see everything, but not move anything. Which meant he saw what Anti saw.   
And Anti saw gushing blood.

〰

**_Now that, was fun._ **

Anti dragged the middle-aged man's body and lay it down on the forest floor next to a shovel. He inspected his handiwork, but grunted in dissatisfaction. The man had died pretty quickly after the blow to the stomach, and Anti didn't even get to hear him scream before he lost consciousness.

_**And that is the best part...** _

_You're fucking sick, you know that?_

Anti sighed in frustration.

**_We are the same person, Jack. So if you think I am sick, then you are, too._ **

Jack clenched his teeth in anger.

_I would NEVER murder an innocent man._

_**That is what you say now...** _

_You're insane._

**_So are you._ **

Jack remained silent. Anti looked down at the body again, then took a bloody knife out of his pocket and knelt down next to the corpse. He then began cutting the flesh off the bones, and throwing it away for the wildlife to eat. It was a delicate process.   
When only a skeleton remained, he picked up the shovel and started digging up earth. When the hole was a couple of feet deep, he dumped the crimson bones inside and covered them up with dirt.

**_No one will suspect a thing._ **

〰

Anti unlocked the door to his apartment, and stepped inside. He took his shoes off at the entrance, and locked the door behind him. Anti then walked over to the bathroom, where he rinsed dry blood off his knife and hands. He looked up at himself in the mirror, and Jack saw what he really looked like. A monster.  
His eyes were an endless void of black. No light reflected off them, and there was no trace of blue anywhere to be seen.   
_These eyes aren't mine._  
Anti didn't seem fazed by this.

**_You can be back in control now. I had my fun._ **

Anti retreated back into the depths of his mind, and Jack let out a slow, shaky breath.

_What the fuck have I done?_


	4. Comments

Jack stared at himself in the mirror; in particular, his eyes. Black voids stared back at him, emotionless and empty. He took his phone out of his pocket and glared into the lens. He snapped a few shots, the flash blinding him for a few seconds, before gazing at the screen.  
His eyes were blue in the photos.  
And that's when Sean McLoughlin lost it.

〰

Jack sat up from his bed, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. _I murdered an innocent man._

**_Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself!_ **

_Shut up Anti._

**_Boo-who, we killed someone. Get used to it._ **

Jack tensed up. _You want to kill more people?_

**_Of course I do. Whether or not you enjoy it, is a different story altogether._ **

Jack's entire body shook. _This can't be happening. I need to get my mind off this... I'll record a video!_

For once, he completely ignored Anti's rants as he set up his recording equipment. He leaned back into his chair and took a deep breath.

_What's a funny game I can play?_

〰

Jack posted the Happy Wheels video, and started scrolling through the comments on his latest posts. Most of them were stupid remarks on something in the video, but some were kind and motivational. _I really do have a great community..._ Jack thought to himself. But of course, there were hate comments.  
**His accent is really annoying.  
13 million subscribers? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?  
Why is he popular? He's crap at all of these games.**  
Jack usually neglected these comments, or used them in a "Reading Your Comments" video. But Anti wouldn't let him ignore them.

_**These comments really warm your heart, don't they?** _

Jack's lips curled into a bitter smile. _There's always gonna be haters. You just gotta ignore them._

**_How is ignoring them helpful? They still think you are a dickhead, and they have a point._ **

_So? I'm stronger than them; I don't care about how they judge me._

**_No, Jack. You are weak._ **

Jack averted his eyes from the phone.

_No I'm not..._

**_Yes, you are. You are cowardice. Intolerable. Ignorant. Selfish._ **

The words drilled into Jack's being, every remark a fatal hit to his self-esteem.

_I can't be that bad..._

Anti snickered maliciously in disbelief.

_Can I?_

**_Your comments' speak for themselves._ **

Jack glanced over at his phone again, and continued reading the comments on his channel. Now, he found himself subconsciously ignoring the nice comments and stupid remarks, and searching for the cruel, spiteful ones. And sure enough, they were easy to find.  
**He's obnoxious.**  
Jack sat down,  
**Uninspiring.**  
Covered one eye with his hand,  
**Characterless.**  
And sniffled quietly,  
**Nothing.**  
Before letting the tears' fall.

_I thought... I was loved._

And as Jack's life slowly shattered, Anti seized the moment.

**_We will never be loved, Jack. No one could ever love a monster._ **


	5. Cuts

Jack choked on his own tears, hiccuping madly between breaths. _I am weak. I am not loved. I am... nothing._ Jack didn't even notice Anti sliding into control, until it was too late.

_Oh God, no. Not again..._

Anti cackled maniacally, and stormed into the kitchen. He hurriedly grabbed the same knife as last time, and rushed out of the apartment.

_**Let's go have some fun!** _

〰

Anti looked down at his young victim, his body a tangle of broken limbs. Anti had made him live through hell by stomping on each of his limbs multiple times, and he wouldn't stop until he heard a sickening crack in each and every bone. Then, to finish the job, he had stabbed the man in the upper back, relishing in his pitiful screams as he bled to an inevitable death. Jack could only watch in sorrow as the light drained out of the man's eyes.  
Anti picked up his shovel, and began dragging the body off to its grave.

〰

Anti walked through the front door to his apartment, and sighed in pleasure.

**_Inflicting pain never gets old..._ **

Jack remained silent.  
Anti walked over to the bathroom and stood in front of the sink. He rinsed the dry blood off his hands and knife before receding back into Jack's mind.  
Jack gasped for air; the realisation of what he had done hit him like a truck.

_How the fuck did it happen again?_

_**You let it happen. You let me have control.** _

As much as Jack didn't want to admit it, he hadn't fought against Anti when he had gained control. He had just... let it happen. He hadn't even tried to stop Anti from murdering that young man. It was at this moment, Jack accepted himself for what he was.

_I'm a monster._

Jack glanced at himself in the mirror, and saw his black orbs staring back intently. Waiting for his next move. He then spotted the knife. The clean, sharp knife. The knife that could cause pain.  
The knife that could end pain.  
The word _monster_ kept echoing throughout his mind as he picked up the blade, and held it against his skin. His hands were shaking as he applied pressure, and his skin tore open in protest.

_I deserve this. I'm a fucking monster._

He repeatedly told himself this, and began saying it out loud when the pain got almost too much to bear with. He started cutting longer, deeper; every scar a reminder of what he had done. He cut ugly scars everywhere, making his body his own canvas of blood.  
He looked upon his artwork, and saw that a lot of the paint had spilt off the canvas. Blood was splattered on the tiles around him, and his clothes were sticking to his cuts. Jack put the knife down beside him, and curled up into a ball; hiding his tears of shame from the world. _I need help_ he thought to himself.

_But who would want to help a monster like me?_


	6. Skype

Jack slowly sat upright and clenched his teeth in pain. _Fuckin' hell. How am I gonna record videos tomorrow?_ He looked down at his cuts, and saw that most of them had stopped bleeding. _Now I gotta fuckin' clean up my mess._ Jack rose from his position and staggered to the sink. He picked up a flannel and wet it under the tap. The water dripped out of the fabric as he pressed it against his forearm; his face immediately twisted in agony. He did this for each cut, until he was sure they wouldn't get too badly infected. There was no way in hell he was using antiseptic cream on freshly made cuts.

Avoiding eye-contact with the mirror, he shuffled to his bedroom and rummaged through the closet for some new clothes that would cover up most of his cuts. Upon finding his long-sleeved 'Berlin' top and some navy-blue skinny jeans, Jack peeled off the damp clothes he was wearing and hurriedly threw them out of his line of sight. While pulling his jeans up and fiddling with the zipper, his computer screen lit up with a Skype icon; Mark.

_Might as well answer him..._

Jack hurriedly flung his shirt over his head and lowered it onto his stomach before pressing the green button under Mark's icon.

"Hey, Jackaboy!" Mark said while waving enthusiastically.

"Hi Markimoo!" Jack replied.

"How're things in the Land of the Leprechauns?" Mark teased.

"Oh, shut up!"

Mark chuckled. "OK, alright. I won't make fun of your Irish-ness. So, the reason I called was to ask you if you wanted to collab with me, Wade and Bob... Jack, are you alright?"

Jack lowered his eyes downcast to avoid his friend's caring stare. "Y-yeah, I'm fine..." he mumbled. "W-why do you ask?"

Mark, not so convinced with his answer, leaned in closer to the screen and looked intently at Jack's ocean blue eyes. "Well, from where I am, it looks like you've been crying... Seriously Jack, are you alright?"

Jack's breath hitched in his throat, and before he could cover it up, Mark spoke encouragingly to him.

"Jack, you can tell me anything. I'm here for you."

Jack shyly glanced back up at his computer to see Mark's calming expression, urging him to confide his worries. Jack was moved by Mark's compassion, but as much as he wanted to tell him everything, he knew he couldn't. He looked away from Mark and scanned his room, his bloody clothes from earlier that evening still sprawled out on the carpet. His eyes watered from the amount of blood, and before he knew it, silent tears were cascading down his puffy cheeks.

"Fuckin' hell..." Jack murmured to himself. He sniffled quietly, and turned to face Mark again before realising he was crying in front of him.

"S-sorry, you shouldn't have to see me like this..." Jack hiccuped suddenly. "I'm a fuckin' mess!"

Jack lifted his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He lowered his head onto his knees and tried to slow down his erratic breathing.

"Jack, please look at me."

Jack apprehensively lifted his head to face Mark. His eyes were wide with worry and his hands were clasped together in front of his chin. _He looks genuinely concerned about me..._

**_Like anybody is concerned about us._ **

Jack quickly swivelled away from Mark in case his face gave anything away about the voice in his head.

_Could you fuckin' leave me alone?_

**_So you can what? Be comforted by your little Markimoo?_ **

_Mark is an angel!_

**_Oh, he sure as hell ain't no angel, Jack._ **

"Jack? Jack?! Say something."

_What do you mean? He's always so nice to people!_

**_You are only seeing one half of the coin._ **

"Jack? Jack! SEAN!"

**_He's just like you._ **

"SHUT UP!" Jack screamed psychotically.

Mark observed in silence. He didn't know what was wrong with Jack, and he was, quite honestly, contemplating his friend's mental health.

Jack rocked his swivel chair back and forth, murmuring "Leave me alone" over and over again. Then, something in Jack's mind clicked, and he remembered Mark was still watching him.

"Oh my fuckin' God Mark. I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to... I-I don't w-want you to leave-" Jack hiccuped mid-sentence, before bawling his eyes out at his situation.

"It's alright Jack. I'm not gonna end the call."

Jack did a double-take when he heard that Mark wasn't going to leave him. "Really?"

"Really. I'm not gonna leave you like this. Please, tell me what's wrong," Mark gently urged him.

God, Mark's voice was as smooth as butter. It somewhat soothed Jack a little, hearing that familiar tone. He took a deep breath, and turned to give Mark direct eye-contact.

"I-I guess I'm just really s-stressed, you know?" Jack confessed some of his worries. He looked down at his feet shamefully. "Look at me, fuckin' crying over nothin'," he scolded himself.

"Look, it's alright! You're just really stressed with your work. You probably just, I don't know, need to take a breather. Sound good?"

Jack glanced back up at Mark. _He really cares about me._

"Yeah, I'll take a break from YouTube. Get my mind back in the right place..."

Mark abruptly clicked his fingers; a lively grin spreading across his face as an idea came to mind.

"How about you come over to L.A and hang out with me?"

Jack's face slowly lit up. "Seriously? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would! You're one of my closest friends, despite living thousands of kilometres away," Mark assured him.

Jack beamed a radiant smile at him, his problems finally leaving him alone, if only for a moment. "Thank you, Mark. It means the world that you would do this for me."

Mark smiled lightheartedly back at him, glad that he could be of assistance to a friend in need. It warmed his heart to see Jack smile, a real smile, and Mark couldn't help but blush at the sincerity behind those eyes.

"I'll text you the flight dates later. Start pre-recording videos now for the trip, OK?"

"Will do, Markimoo," Jack sighed happily.

"See you soon, Jackaboy."

"Bye, Mark."

And with that, Jack ended the call.


	7. Greetings

Jack looked around his apartment one last time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. _Toothbrush? Check. Pyjamas? Check. Laptop charger? Check. Then why do I feel like I'm missing something?_ His flight was going to leave in 4 hours, and he still wasn't even on his way to the airport. _I need to stop fuckin' around. Am I actually missing something?_

It was only when he entered the kitchen did he realise what he was missing. His knife sat in the centre of the kitchen table, the sharp blade reflecting light off it in a glorifying manner. He hadn't used it in a month, and in that time his cuts had healed to an easily concealable state.

For the first few days after he had self-harmed, he had worn long-sleeved shirts and pants to cover up the cuts and bruises. Now, all he had to do was put on a bit of makeup, and he looked normal. Well, normal enough that the camera didn't pick up on the cuts. Jack wasn't so sure his makeup would conceal his cuts to people in public.

As he gazed over at the knife, he debated on whether or not to bring it. _I need to be able to punish myself if Anti does anything... but the airports' customs won't let me board the plane with a 'weapon' in my possession!_ Just as he was about to stuff the knife in his suitcase for the trip, he glanced at his watch to check the time. _Shit! I'm gonna be late if I don't get a move on._ He looked at the knife longingly for a second before making his decision.

_Fuck it._

He hurriedly slammed the knife back on the table and rushed out of the door to his apartment; nearly forgetting to lock the entrance in the process.

〰

Jack took a few shaky breaths before looking away from the circular window, and tried to focus on his phone instead of the 12 kilometre drop to the ocean. He bounced his leg up and down in anxiety while scrolling through Twitter, before deciding to text Mark to calm his nerves.

J: Plane has just taken off, see you in about 10 hrs.

M: k, i'll meet u outside airport terminal

J: Cool, see ya soon! :)

And with that, Jack attempted to get some sleep during the long, dreadful flight.

〰

"Passengers, you may now disembark."

Jack rose from his seat groggily, and trudged miserably down the corridor leading out of the plane. He hadn't slept at all, despite his efforts to relax and forget about his fear of heights. He rubbed his eyes in despair and made his way over to the luggage conveyer belt. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he sent Mark a quick text.

J: Just arrived, getting luggage now.

As he carefully picked his suitcase up from the conveyer belt, his phone vibrated against his leg to alert him of a new message.

M: i'm at terminal now

J: Ok, I'm coming.

As he shoved his phone back in his pants pocket, he made his way over to the 'Arrivals' terminal. He kept his eyes peeled for Mark, and treaded further into the mass of people waiting for visitors. His eyes danced around the room nervously, looking for the familiar redhead. Just as he was about to call Mark, he was tackled into an unexpected hug from behind.

"Jackaboy! You're here!" Mark whooped. He tightened his hold on Jack's shoulders for a second, before releasing his hold and spinning Jack around to face him.

"Yep, I'm back baby!" Jack replied enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it feels like it's been forever since I last saw you."

Jack gnawed on his lip guiltily. "Sorry that I've only visited you once this year..."

"Don't worry about it." Mark looked at Jack's suitcase. "Are you sure you brought enough stuff? One suitcase seems a little light."

"Oh, um, I thought since I'm only here for a week, I wouldn't need much. I only packed the essentials, like clothes and shit," Jack mumbled.

"Oh, that'd make sense. Do you want me to carry it to the car?"

Jack shook his head benevolently. "Nah, I can carry it. It isn't too heavy."

Mark smiled at him. "If you say so."

They began walking off to the airport's car park. They were stopped a few times by fans of theirs, and they took pictures and signed autographs for them before leaving for Mark's car. It never stopped amazing Jack how many people actually watched his channel; here he was, in a country on the other side of the world, and people still recognised him as 'Jacksepticeye'. _The internet is a wonderful place._

"Oh, I forgot to ask! How was your flight?" Mark questioned.

"Fuckin' horrible. You know about my fear of heights!" Jack exclaimed.

Mark did his iconic low chuckle and smiled at Jack. "Well, at least you got to sleep on the flight."

"Yeah, about that..." Jack squeaked.

Mark stopped smiling. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"Not for a minute."

Mark huffed in disbelief. "You know Jack, sometimes I wonder about you..."

"Hey!"

"You're going to be fucking exhausted later today, with the change of time zones and jet lag. Plus, airline food-"

"Do not even MENTION airline food," Jack snarled.

"Ok, I won't! But still, I wouldn't be surprised if you fell asleep later today," Mark reasoned.

"Not gonna happen Mark, because SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK!" Jack roared, getting a few weird looks from the people around them.

"Well, now my eardrums have definitely burst."

Jack playfully punched Mark's huge bicep. "Shut up, ya fuckin' pussy!"

Jack and Mark simultaneously laughed, and happily hopped into Mark's car for the trip home. For once, Jack wasn't worrying about Anti.


	8. Reflections

Los Angeles was vastly different to Ireland. The multitude of palm trees, bustling streets and constant sunshine made Jack slightly envy Mark, but only slightly. He still loved Ireland, he just wasn't fond of the loneliness.

Jack looked out through the side window while Mark drove. A thick silence hung in the air; not an awkward silence, but a content silence. They were just happy to be in each other's company for the time being.

_I wonder what we'll get up to while I'm here..._ Jack smiled to himself while admiring L.A.

Abruptly, an unfamiliar sensation arose from deep within Jack. It was like a craving for violence, something Jack himself had never experienced. It nauseated him slightly, this thirst for pain, and it slowly spread throughout his body. Jack's smile dropped when disturbing images of corpses permeated his mind. Gnawing on his lip, he tried to suppress these feelings and focus on the scenery around him.

_**Jack.** _

Jack's face visibly paled in fear.

**_Let me out._ **

Mark glanced over at Jack, who was looking uneasily out the window. He seemed... tense.

"Hey, you alright?"

Jack turned to face him, and put on his most believable fake smile.

"Never better."

〰

"We're home, Jack."

No answer.

"Jack?"

Mark turned to face his friend, who was slouched over in his seat with his eyes closed. Jack's face scrunched into a frown for a second, before he yawned and stretched his limbs.

"I told you sleep would catch up to you..."

Jack groggily opened his eyes and squinted from the light. "What time is it now?"

Mark looked down at his watch. "It's 11 in the morning."

"Fuuuck. I'm tired as shit..." Jack moaned.

Mark chuckled. "Here, I'll carry your suitcase."

Before Jack could protest, Mark had opened up the boot of the car and lifted the suitcase out the back. Just as he was about to close the boot, the zipper slid back a few teeth. That was all it took for the contents of Jack's suitcase to tumble out.

"Shit. Sorry Jack!"

Mark quickly opened the suitcase fully and placed it on the ground next to Jack's belongings. Jack stumbled over to where Mark was crouched, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Nah, it's fine..." Jack mumbled under his breath.

Mark neatly folded his clothes before putting them back in the suitcase, and put the other miscellaneous items on top. The last item he put in was a toiletries bag, but its zipper was undone. He was about to zip the case back up when he saw something... odd inside.

"Hey Jack, I don't mean to be rude, but why do you have makeup in here?"

_Fuck._

Jack blushed slightly, and averted his eyes from Mark's curious ones."I, uh, use it for recording..." _Real smooth, Jack._

Mark's face abruptly erupted in colour. "S-sorry, that was a dumb question... um, l-let's head inside!" Mark stuttered.

He muttered something under his breath as he carried Jack's suitcase through the doorway and avoided eye contact with him as much as possible. Jack was now incredibly thankful that he hadn't packed his knife in the suitcase.

Mark's place hadn't changed much. The layout of the furniture was the same from when Jack had visited last time, and as he sat down on the couch he reminisced silently of the good times he and Mark had shared in this house.

"Make yourself at home," Mark called out as he hopped down the stairs. "Do you need anything? 'Cause I'm gonna make lunch in an hour."

"Nah, I'm good." The words came out slightly slurred. "I think I'm just gonna lay down..." Jack murmured.

Mark stared at the back of his friends' head. It wasn't like him to be this quiet. "Well, the guest bedroom's upstairs, 2nd right, if you want to sleep."

Jack rubbed his eyes and yawned before slowly getting up. "Thanks Mark," he murmured gratefully, his accent slightly more pronounced than usual.

"No problem."

Standing on shaky legs, Jack shuffled his way to the staircase and made his way to the guest bedroom. As soon as he was out of Mark's line of sight, he clenched his fists and closed his eyes in agony. Slowly breathing in, and out.

**_Let me out, Jack._ **

Shaking his head repetitively, he whispered, "N-no... I won't let you hurt anyone!"

**_Stop resisting, or I'll force my way out._ **

Jack opened his eyes, but quickly realised that was a mistake. A full length mirror stood beside the guest bedroom door. And in it, he could see himself. But as his true form.

_Monster_ he told himself as he saw his black eyes in the reflection. He looked downcast at his wrists, where his cuts acted as a reminder of what had happened. Subconsciously rubbing his thumbs over his scars, he rose his gaze to look back at the mirror; but his reflection did not do the same. Instead, it stayed looking at the ground.

_What the fuck?_

Just as he began reaching his hand out to touch the mirror, his reflection jerked its head upright and stared at Jack. A wide, psychotic grin spread across its face, and it tilted its head sideways before maniacally laughing.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack just stood there, too shocked to move. His reflection had just spoken to him, with Anti's voice. And it had moved independently from him.

"G-get away from me!" Jack shouted at his reflection.

His reflection, or Anti, chuckled darkly. Just as he was about to speak again, he froze. Jack slowly approached the mirror, but found that his reflection was mirroring his actions again. He sighed, relieved, before he realised there were loud, frantic footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Jack! Are you alright?" Mark asked panicky as he appeared at the top of the staircase.

Glancing back at the mirror, Jack made sure that his reflection was still, his reflection, before turning to face Mark.

"Uh, yeah. Everything's fine..."

Mark let out a breath of air before ruffling his hair with his hand. "Then why did you yell?"

_Awww, shiteballs._

"I-I got a little freaked out, t'is all..." Jack lied unconvincingly.

"Okaaay," Mark exaggerated the vowel. "Do you want to talk to me about it, or...?"

Jack threw his a reassuring grin. "Nah, I'm good now."

"Okay."

An awkward silence hung between the two of them for a couple of seconds. Mark started humming to himself randomly, and Jack began rocking backwards and forwards on the heels of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm gonna sleep now!" Jack announced as he opened the guest bedroom door.

Mark stopped humming and looked at Jack one last time. "You sure you're okay?"

Jack turned to face him, and smiled.

"I'm fine, Mark."


	9. Appearances

The feeling wouldn't go away. As much as Jack tried to suppress it, the craving for violence interfused with his trembling body. His head was pounding, as if someone was drilling holes into it, and Anti wouldn't stop harassing Jack.

 ****_**I can get rid of this feeling, Jack.**_  
 _ **I can make it all go away.**_  
 _ **You just have to let me have control.**_

Jack clenched his teeth as he sat upright in bed, and roughly pulled the blankets off his sweaty, boiling skin.

_Fuckin' go away, Anti! I don't need any of this shit!_

Silence. A sound Jack wasn't used to hearing when he was alone.

Then overbearing pain. Jack screamed.

**_Let me out!_ **

Jack writhed in agony on top of the double bed, shrieking at the top of his lungs. He repeatedly slammed his head against the mattress, trying to cease the onslaught of pain.

"Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it STOP!" he wailed desperately.

Suddenly, the bedroom door slammed open with such force that it left a dent in the wall. Mark, clearly distressed, bolted over to Jack's side and ran his fingers through his fiery red hair frantically.

"Jack! Oh my God, what's wrong! What do I do?"

Mark hesitantly reached his hand out to Jack's forehead, and was appalled by how abnormally hot his pale skin was.

"I-I'm gonna get you some painkillers, I'll be r-right back," Mark told him. "Just hold on, Jackaboy!"

Mark rushed out of the guest bedroom and jumped down the stairs 3 at a time, before stopping himself from running into a wall. He dashed over to the kitchen cupboards and nearly ripped the doors off their hinges in his hurry to get Jack some medicine. Upon finding the strongest painkillers he owned, his ran back up to the guest bedroom; expected to see Jack still thrashing about on the bed. Instead, Jack's body was unmoving, lying in an awkward position on top of the disheveled bed sheets.

"Jack? Are you alright now?" Mark questioned apprehensively, placing the medicine on the bedside table.

He slowly approached Jack from the side, getting a clearer look at his face. Black, sticky tears slid down his sweaty face, and his usually clear blue eyes were cloudy and... darker?

"Jack?" Mark shakily breathed.

But Jack seemed distant, staring at Mark with blank, foggy eyes. Suddenly, both of his whole eyes flickered to an utmost black, before returning to their previous shade of blue.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mark asked uneasily while leaning closer to Jack's pale face.

Finally looking Mark in the eye, Jack mustered the strength to speak.

"Help me..." Jack croaked, his voice raw from screaming.

He couldn't resist any longer. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't fight it. He couldn't fight Anti.

He lost control after trying so hard to resist. And it was all for nothing in the end.

Jack's eyes faded to complete darkness, and Mark visibly tensed in fear. Blinded by bloodlust, Anti needed to kill the nearest living being available to him. And, it just so happened to be Mark.

_Run, Mark!_

Mark slowly backed away from Anti, his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. Anti chuckled at the effect he already had on Mark.

"Scared of me already, Markiplier?"

Mark audibly gulped, and shook his head. "W-what are you d-doing?" he asked as Anti got up out of bed.

Instead of answering, Anti lunged at Mark, his hands outstretched and aiming for his throat. Mark's eyes widened, but he quickly swerved out of the way. Anti turned around to kick Mark in the back, and Mark doubled over, trying to ignore the pain in his lower spine. Anti smirked, knowing he had managed to harm him already. What he didn't expect, however, was Mark to spin around and punch him square in the face.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you Jack," Mark sibilated, "but snap out of it."

A black substance began seeping out of Anti's nose, similar to that of Jack's tears. Except this one was thicker. Anti smiled, ignoring the substance entirely. Realising he couldn't overpower Mark without a weapon, he sprinted out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. Anti pulled out the drawers frantically, searching for the cutlery. Just as he spotted it lying in one of the top drawers, Mark grabbed Anti's right arm and tried doing the same with his left. Anti struggled to free his good arm from Mark's grip, but failed miserably.

"God fucking dammit!"

Anti hastily grabbed the first knife he saw with his left hand and swiped at the arm holding him still. The blade didn't leave a large cut, but it drew enough blood to distract Mark momentarily.

"You motherfucker!" he insulted as he released Anti from his grasp.

Laughing at Mark's choice of words, he swapped his grip on the knife to his good hand, his right hand, and angled it above Mark's chest. Realising that Anti was actually attempting to kill him, Mark slapped the knife out of his hand, giving him another cut on his palm. The knife, however, flew across the floor to the other side of the kitchen. Anti watched the knife leave his possession, and in those few seconds, Mark was able to shove Anti to the tiled floor and sit on top of him.

"Fuckin' get off me, asshole!" Anti growled menacingly.

Anti started squirming about under Mark's hold, and it took a lot of Mark's strength to keep him pinned to the ground. Mark couldn't decide what to do with him, though. _Why is Jack acting like this? Is he sick? Tired? Mentally ill?_

Mark kept asking himself these questions; not expecting an answer to any of them.

**_This isn't Jack._ **

Mark jerked his head around the room, trying to figure out who spoke. So, he dared the voice to answer him again. "Well then who the hell else has green hair?" he spoke aloud while Anti looked at him crazily.

 ** _Punch him out cold_** the deep voice told him instead of answering Mark.

Not knowing what else he could do in this situation, he listened to the mysterious voices' advice.

"Sorry, Jack," he whispered to no one in particular as he raised his fist.

And instead of cowering away from the fist, Anti smirked malevolently at Mark.

"I like pain," he confessed just before Mark's powerful fist connected with his temple. Then, everything went black.


	10. Secrets

Jack woke up with a splitting headache, and the urge to vomit his guts up. His bloodlust had died down substantially, but it was still nagging at him in the back of his mind. As he looked around the room, he was aware that he was back in the guest bedroom, and the painkillers Mark had fetched for him earlier were still on the bedside table. Taking three tablets, and swallowing them without water, he sat upright in bed. He quickly realised this was a mistake.

"Fuck!" he yelped, due to the lingering pain.

Within seconds, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

_Shite._

The doorknob slowly turned, and Jack held his breath as Mark entered the room cautiously.

"Are you alright now?"

No greeting or anything. Just straight to the questions. _Great. What the fuck am I supposed to tell him?_

"I'm fine now, I guess..." Jack muttered.

Mark crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you take some painkillers?"

Jack cast his sight at the bedspreads.  "I took three."

"Good," Mark approved.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands together in front of him. Staring down at his intertwined fingers, he sighed awkwardly. Jack couldn't meet Mark's eyes.

"Jack, what the fuck is going on?"

Jack flinched at the harsh tone. But, he knew he deserved it. He'd refused to share his troubles and now, Mark was paying the price for it.

"I'm sorry I hurt you..." Jack's words came out strangled.

Mark slowly opened his right palm and examined the gash on his skin. "You didn't hurt me that badly, actually. Just a few cuts..." his voice trailed off as he traced the fresh wound.

Mark strained to hear what Jack muttered under his breath, but he thought he heard the words "Thank God."

Mark's patience wouldn't last any longer. "Why did you try to kill me?"

Jack bit down on his lip, realising there was no way around this. He was going to have to tell Mark about his 'problem'. _But how do I tell him?_ His face turned worrisome and fearful as he finally looked Mark in the eye. _You know what, fuck explanations._

"I have a fuckin' inner demon living inside me!" he blurted out.

Mark stared at him blankly. "Come again?"

Jack closed his eyes and breathed out slowly before talking to Mark again. "You need to believe me, I have this voice in my head that talks to me and tells me to do things and doesn't leave me alone and sometimes I talk back to it and I know I shouldn't, I should just ignore it but I can't, I just CAN'T. And I-"

Mark shushed him and leaned over. He wrapped his muscular arms around Jack's frail body and embraced him into a comforting hug.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mark whispered soothingly into Jack's ear.

Jack mumbled into Mark's shirt. "I-I didn't think anyone would want to help me..."

Mark looked down at Jack disbelieving; that was why he didn't open up to him?

"Jack, plenty of people would want to help you, you just have to open up about these things. We're here for you."

Mark paused slightly, his words thick with emotion.

"I'm here for you."

Mark heard sniffling, so he smiled reassuringly at Jack. He rubbed his hand in a calming manner on his back, but Jack scrunched his eyes up in shame.

"You're allowed to cry. I won't judge you..."

A single, defiant black tear managed to escape Jack's closed eyes, but Mark wiped it away tenderly. Jack, no longer able to keep his façade on in front of Mark, allowed his dam overflowing with emotions to burst. He began silently weeping, after holding it together for so long in front of Mark; one of the few people he trusted wholeheartedly. He buried his head into Mark's chest, desperately trying to calm himself.

"I'm a mess..." he murmured to himself, ashamed of the way he was acting.

Mark pretended he didn't hear it, and held onto Jack for a couple more minutes, somewhat enjoying the company. Jack however, found himself still hugging Mark because he wanted to, not because he needed to. Mark gently released his hold around Jack and crawled over the bed to sit next to him.

"Tell me everything."

Jack looked down at the bedsheets miserably. "You wouldn't understand..."

"I'm a good listener."

He half-smiled at that; he could always count on Mark to reassure him. Mark always managed to make him happy.

While Jack thought about how lucky he was to have Mark, Mark decided that he needed to ask Jack a few questions to get him to start confiding.

"Well, for starters, why are your tears black now?"

Jack rose his gaze from the bedsheets and turned around to face Mark, a questioning look apparent on his face.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion; Jack hadn't noticed yet?

"Here, take a look in the mirror."

_Oh, fuck no._

Pretending to be indifferent about looking in a mirror, Jack rigidly followed Mark out to the full length mirror beside the guest bedroom; the pain from earlier had somewhat subsided. Internally relieved when his reflection followed his actions, he took a closer look at his tear-stricken face. Streaks of black covered his puffy cheeks and they all originated from his eyes; his black, iris-less eyes. Mark didn't comment on it. Then again, Jack didn't expect him to.

Reapplying his focus on the matter at hand, Jack muttered "What the fuck?" under his breath; unsure of what the black tears meant for him. He turned to face Mark, who shrugged unknowingly.

"All I know is that you had a similar thing coming out your nose earlier..."

A look of disgust was made evident on Jack's face. "Ew, gross dude! I don't need details!"

Mark chuckled his wonderful laugh, and Jack smiled shyly to himself; he'd managed to make Mark laugh at a time like this. He looked back at the mirror, but nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Anti holding a knife in the reflection.

Jack's eyes widened in fear, but he stood his ground so he wouldn't alarm Mark. Anti tilted his head quizzically at Mark, before lining the knife up to his friend's temple.

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Jack growled at Anti.

Mark, however, was dismayed by Jack's sudden threat.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

But Jack wasn't listening. Instead, he watched Anti as he cackled with that insane look in his black eyes. Without warning, he suddenly slammed the knife into Mark's forehead; the Mark in the reflection falling to the ground lifelessly. Jack screamed, petrified. His body began violently shaking as Anti leant down next to Mark's corpse and yanked the knife mercilessly out of his skull. Blood gushed out of the wound, among some fragments of bone and pieces of brain. Anti then had the audacity to smirk crazily at Jack, and wipe the knife clean with his shirt.

Jack's urge to vomit amplified at the sight, so he rushed to the bathroom, and chucked his guts up. He couldn't stop replaying the image of Mark's body collapsing in his mind. When he finished throwing up, he was startled to find a black, sticky substance among his awful flight dinner. _What the fuck is happening to me?_

**_I'm happening!_ **

Instead of having a smart-ass reply, as he usually did, he remained silent as Anti's nonsensical giggles echoed throughout his mind. It was as if Anti was no longer just a voice in his head...

It was like he was a part of him.

He cleaned up the mess he'd made in Mark's bathroom, but when he finished he found Mark leaning on the doorframe; preventing him from exiting. Jack futilely attempted to remove Mark's corpse from his thoughts as he tried to find his voice.

Before he could, however, Mark held up his hand to stop his train of thought.

"I don't want to hear an excuse. You need to tell me EVERYTHING."


	11. Confessions

Jack swallowed nervously, and twiddled his thumbs in a self-conscience manner.

"Everything?"

"Everything. No more secrets," Mark replied.

Mark stepped out of the doorframe and walked back to the guest bedroom. Jack, not knowing what else he could do in this situation, followed him out of the bathroom calmly. However, when he passed the full length mirror next to the guest bedroom, he did his best to avoid looking at his reflection; keeping his head low as he scurried past it. He didn't notice Mark observing his actions from his peripheral vision.

As Mark sat down on the edge of the bed, he patted the space next to him for Jack to sit upon. On edge, Jack lightly sat down next to Mark, not sure where to begin. He clasped his hands together in front of him and rocked back and forth on the bed, keeping his gaze locked on his slightly shaking fingers.

"What really happened earlier?" Mark pressed gently, trying to get an answer.

Jack murmured something inaudibly. "Pardon?" Mark asked.

"I see him in any mirrored surface..."

Remembering the full length mirror outside the bedroom, Mark registered the fact that Jack had yelled twice at that mirror in particular, as if he was talking to it...

Mark stared at Jack's somewhat cloudy eyes. "Is he in the mirror outside?"

The shaking became more visible as Jack scrunched up his eyes and nodded his head repetitively.

"What does he look like?" Mark urged him to continue talking.

Jack opened his eyes and stopped shaking, turning his head to face Mark with small, black blotches in his usually bright, blue eyes.

"Exactly like me... except his eyes are completely black..." Jack whispered, looking vulnerable.

Mark then recollected earlier that day, when Jack had been spasming on the very bed they were seated upon. He had looked to be in an awful amount of pain, but it had stopped just as abruptly as it had started. It was just after that episode that Jack had weakly asked Mark to help him, and his eyes, including the white and blue parts, had shifted to black.

"That wasn't you earlier today, was it?" Mark asked.

"He's a part of me..."

"I don't believe for a second that what attacked me earlier has anything to do with you!"

Jack clenched his fists on his lap. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," Jack spat.

Mark opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly shut it as he realised his disbelief was only going to annoy Jack. An awkward silence filled the room for a moment.

Jack spoke before Mark had a chance to reply. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's alright. We all say stuff sometimes we don't really mean."

Jack badly wanted to object to Mark's statement. He meant what he said; he was actually apologising because he had said it out loud. But, he refrained himself from doing so and allowed Mark to continue.

"Does he have a name? This... voice?"

Jack nodded. "Anti, short for Antisepticeye," he explained nervously.

"Right. And, how often does he speak to you?"

Jack looked away, slightly frightened of what Mark's reaction would be. He hadn't shared this information with anybody, so he didn't know how well Mark would handle the situation. "Every day."

Mark silently gaped at his friend, a look of horror spreading across his features. _Is he serious?_ The way that Jack had his head turned away from him suggested so.

"Jesus, Jack! You should have told me about this, I could have helped you!"

Jack's eyes immediately darted back to Mark's and widened in dubiety.

"How the fuck could you have helped me?!"

"I don't know, maybe I could have taken you to the doctors?"

"They would fuckin' drag me to one of those mental hospitals, I assure you!"

Jack began hyperventilating; pulling at his green hair frantically while speaking quickly. "They'd take me away, and put me in solitary confinement, and I wouldn't see anyone, and Anti wouldn't leave me alone! And-"

Jack abruptly stopped his train of thought. An idea he hadn't thought about crossed his mind. "And I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone..." he murmured.

"Hey hey hey, stop thinking like that, Anti's not going to hurt anyone," Mark desperately tried to reassure him.

"You can't promise me that I won't hurt someone."

"Jack, you are not Anti."

"Yes, I fuckin' am, Mark!"

"Why are you so insistent on this? The green-haired Irishman I know is nothing like what attacked me."

Jack stared at Mark with wide, intense eyes. "Because," he began, but stopped mid-sentence.

**_Because we murdered 2 innocent people._ **

Anti had become an overbearing presence. When he spoke, the words echoed throughout his mind, but when he laughed, it was as if Anti was laughing directly into his ear. Jack honestly couldn't decipher if Anti was in his head or not anymore. He looked at his surroundings to make sure a mirror wasn't in sight, before slapping his forehead harshly.

"Don't do that to yourself!" Mark sounded like a worried parent.

"But he's right!" Jack began repeatedly hitting his forehead, which had already turned a bright red. His breathing turned rapid and his whole body began trembling with anxiety.

"Jack, look at me."

Jack's eyes darted around the room, trying to find something to focus on. He turned his head around hastily but was surprised to meet Mark's chocolate brown eyes, which were only a couple of centimetres away from his.

"Take a deep breath."

Jack stopped harming himself and did as Mark asked. He tried to focus on his breathing, and took in a lungful of oxygen. He held it in for a second, before slowly releasing the air from his lungs. He repeated this process a couple times before going back to a regular breathing pattern.

"You good now?" Mark asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I think so... Thanks."

"No problem."

Jack didn't know how, but he had somehow gotten lost in Mark's eyes. They were so full of concern, and were such a deep, rich brown. It was like he was in a trance, as he could not tear his gaze away from the orbs. Mark stared back intently; admiring the bright, clear blue in Jack's eyes that hadn't yet been covered up by black splotches.

And it was as if a switch had been flicked when they both suddenly realised how close they were, and how long they had been staring at each other. Mark dropped his gaze and laughed awkwardly.

"Ah, sorry, I, um, was in your, you know, p-personal space..." Mark stuttered as he scooched a few centimetres away from Jack.

"No problem," he said, his voice higher pitched than usual.

Mark clapped his hands. "Anyways! Back to the original topic."

"Yep."

Mark hesitated slightly before asking, "Has Anti attacked anybody? Like, what he did to me?"

Suddenly, Jack could feel every scar on his body, every reminder of what he'd done. The scars rubbed uncomfortably against his clothing, and he became acutely aware of the fact that he couldn't tell Mark everything. It wasn't that simple.

"No," he murmured in a manner that suggested to drop the subject.

Mark nodded, pleased with the answer he had received; even though deep down, he knew Jack was lying to him.

〰

"So, is that everything?"

Ignoring the guilt he felt inside, Jack nodded but kept his head low. As he rubbed his eyes tiredly and tugged at the ends of his long sleeves, he waited for the conversation to end.

"Great! Now that I know what the hell is going on, I can help you."

He reached out towards Jack and pulled him into a quick hug. Jack, a slight blush evident on his cheeks, quickly hugged him back, before letting Mark's arms leave him.

"I'm going downstairs to watch Netflix. If you need anything, just call out, okay?"

Jack smiled, a real, genuine smile, and Mark was over the moon. He tried not to show it, though, as he exited the room to let Jack rest.

Still smiling to himself, Jack thought of the hundred different ways that conversation could have gone worse. He turned the light off and hopped into bed, pulling the covers all the way up to his neck.

_Maybe everything will work out in the end_ he told himself.

There was no response.


	12. Nightmares

As Jack sat down at the dining table, a distinct aroma permeated the air. He giddily smiled to himself, knowing exactly what the scent was.

"Mark, you shouldn't have!"

He was leaning over the stovetop in the open planned kitchen, with a frying pan in his left hand and a spatula in his right. The early morning light filtered through the glass doors leading outside, giving the room an appealing orange glow.

"But I did!" Mark countered playfully.

He quickly lifted the frypan off the stove and a thick, somewhat circular pancake flew into the air and flipped twice before landing back in the pan.

"Bravo!" Jack cheered.

Mark turned around and bowed clumsily at Jack, before going back to the task at hand. Jack could almost feel his mouth watering at the smell of the pancakes, but he kept his manners intact and waited patiently for him to finish cooking.

"Breakfast is coming right up!"

When a plate stacked with pancakes came into Jack's view, he couldn't help but stare. They looked incredibly appetising, and the smell they gave off was absolutely delicious. Mark set the plate down carefully on the table, and sat down next to Jack for breakfast.

"Did you want butter or maple syrup with your pancakes?" Mark asked in his signature deep voice.

Jack couldn't help but laugh. "Maple s-syrup please!" he responded with a giggle mid-sentence.

Mark passed him the syrup with a fake pout on his lips. "You didn't find that hot?"

As he poured the syrup onto his pancakes, Jack shrugged. "Butter and maple syrup isn't exactly the sexiest thing to talk about in that voice..."

A smirk made its way onto Mark's face as he leant over, getting closer to Jack. "So," he began, his voice more seductive than before, "You're not turned on by this?"

Jack's cheeks blushed a light pink as he tried to find the right words to reply with. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Extremely embarrassed by the situation he was in, Jack's cheeks blazed red as he avoided eye contact with Mark. Unbeknownst to his reaction, Mark chuckled to himself and leant back in his chair; giving Jack his personal space back.

"I'm only messing with ya," he teased.

"Y-Yeah, I f-figured..." Jack stammered, his accent slightly more pronounced than usual.

Mark's attention went back to his pile of pancakes, so Jack decided to do the same. He took a bite out of the top one and nearly hummed in satisfaction. They were just delicious! He was about to take another bite when his stomach abruptly churned. He tried to ignore it, but it only steadily got worse the more he looked at his food.

"Hey Mark?" he said, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yep?"

"I-I don't feel too well..." he confessed, now beginning to get a headache. "Maybe I just need to get more sleep..."

Mark's face turned from joyful to worrisome in a split second. "It wasn't the pancakes, was it?"

Jack grimaced and clutched his stomach, the churning beginning to become violent. "I-I don't think so."

"I'll get you some water," Mark stated as he shot up from his seat. He dashed over to the kitchen cabinets and opened one of the doors. He hastily grabbed the first glass he saw and filled it up with tap water. Careful not to spill the drink, Mark made his way over to Jack, who had his eyes screwed up in pain.

"Here." Mark offered him the drink, and sat back down next to Jack, who had opened his eyes to just a sliver.

"Thanks," he croaked weakly, his lips barely moving when he spoke. Mark began rubbing his back comfortingly; it was helping him, but not nearly enough. He reached out to grab the glass, his hands shaking vigorously, but immediately got the urge to vomit just from moving his arm. He leapt out of the chair and ran to the sink, emptying his stomach's contents in Mark's kitchen. Mark was at his side instantly, but audibly gasped in horror at what lay in the sink. A black, thick substance filled the sink, along with streaks of red which he could only assume was blood. There was not a trace of food anywhere.

"Oh my God... Jack, we need to get you to a fucking hospital!"

Jack was dry-heaving now; panting and sweating and an absolute mess. His fingers clutched onto the rim of the sink like his life depended on it. When he thought he was finished retching, he pressed his back up against the cupboard below the sink and slid down it slowly. Jack then sat down on the tiles, and brought his knees up to his chin while breathing heavily.

"Mark..." he whispered faintly, "It hurts..."

His eyes leaked out black tears due to the immense pain. His desperate wails filled the room and his head pounded relentlessly as his stomach did backflips.

"I know Jack, I know! I'm calling the ambulance right now!" he yelled, terrified of what was happening.

There was no warning this time. No incentives, no threats, not even a single word. Jack became submissive to Anti, just desperately wanting the pain to end. Mark watched on in horror as Jack's blotchy blue eyes faded to darkness, and Anti smiled broadly as he looked up at Mark.

Chuckling darkly, he stood up slowly while keeping eye contact with Mark. A wide grin was plastered on his face as he opened the cutlery drawer behind him; realisation finally dawning on Mark. He slowly pulled out a long, thin knife and twirled it around in his right hand effortlessly. He took a menacing step forward towards Mark, who in turn took two steps back.

"F-Fuck off, Anti!" he stuttered.

He chuckled again under his breath, and took another step towards Mark.

"Such brave words..." Anti taunted.

Mark began taking successive steps backwards in an attempt to get some distance between them. Anti, however, walked slowly towards Mark; there was no place for him to hide. Mark was simply, delaying the inevitable.

When Mark finally came to terms with the fact that the front door was at the other end of the house, his face paled in fear at the situation he was in. Anti stood menacingly between him and his escape, and his attitude guaranteed Mark he wouldn't be able to get past him without a fight.

Running through all his options in his head, Mark realised there were barely any. His back then pressed up against a wall; he was cornered in his own house. Anti smirked at Mark's obvious fear and walked even closer to him.

"J-Jack..." he uttered quietly. "Help me, please."

"Jack can't help you now. He's gone!"

"No, h-he's not. I-I know he's not."

"Yes he fuckin' is!"

"Shut up, Anti! Just, shut up! Jack, listen to me. Y-"

"Jack is GONE!" Anti screeched.

"NO HE'S NOT! Jack, listen to me. You're better than this. You're better than HIM. He doesn't control who you are, or what you do. Overcome him, and fight back Goddammit!"

Jack listened. He understood what he needed to do. He needed to fight for control, to confront a part of himself.

So he did.

_Let me out, Anti._

"Oh fuck no," Anti muttered.

_Let me have control._

"No! I just got out! I'm not getting cooped up again!"

_You're not going to hurt Mark._

Anti paused, and grinned maliciously; an idea coming to him. "I know how to shut you up, Jack..."

He slid his finger along the blade of the knife and gripped the hilt tightly. "I just need to get rid of your motivation."

It took Mark a second to realise he was talking about him. His body began trembling with fear as Anti closed in on him, hopelessness being the prominent emotion he was feeling. His palms turned sweaty with anxiety and his veins bulged out of his skin, clearly in a state of distress.

"Jack, fight back! Please!"

So Jack fought. He struggled and used all of his willpower to regain control, but to no avail. Anti was stronger than him. Anti had always been stronger than him.

"He's fighting a losing battle!" Anti taunted Mark as he clutched his head, fending off his other side.

Jack stopped fighting for a few seconds, just trying to regain his energy for a second round. Little did he know, that was all the time Anti needed to finish the task at hand. He abruptly lunged at Mark and pushed him against the wall, the blade held again his neck tightly. Mark whimpered, but tried to cover it up with a gasp of air.

"Are ya scared of me Markimoo!"

He pressed the blade harshly into his neck, Mark's throat beginning to seep blood.

"Jack, help me, please!"

But Jack couldn't do anything. He was powerless against Anti. No matter how much he fought, or tried to regain control. His struggles went unnoticed by Mark, who was by now screaming and begging for Jack to stop hurting him.

For JACK to stop. Not Anti.

_I'm doing this to him._

Anti stopped pressing the knife into Mark's neck, and instead slashed across the front of it violently. A deep wound of a couple of centimetres formed, and Mark collapsed onto the floor, no longer able to support his weight. He gargled loudly as he attempted to draw air into his lungs, but his windpipe had been too severely damaged by the blade. Thin trails of blood covered his neck and disappeared under his shirt, where a patch of red could be seen around the collar area.

Anti smiled devilishly to himself, knowing Jack had witnessed the entire event. To torture Jack that little bit more, he let him have control again to watch Mark die. As soon as Anti left, Jack began crying black, sticky tears and knelt down next to Mark's head; his breathing becoming fainter and fainter. Mark's eyes were still open as Jack swept aside the black hair from his face. In his eyes held many emotions, too many to name. But the main one, the one Jack hated himself for, was fear.

Mark feared him.

And as Mark drew his final breath, all Jack could do was watch.

〰

Jack was sobbing hysterically at this point. _How could I do that to him?_

**_Did you enjoy that, Jack?_ **

_Shut the fuck up!_

**_I had a blast!_ **

Jack's wails filled the house, his face a mess of black tears and puffy red cheeks. He curled into a ball and cried into his knees, just wanting to shut the world out for a moment. This, he realised, would be impossible, as the person he wanted to see the least at that moment opened the door gently and walked over to Jack. He sat down on the bed and reached over to Jack, who was still pretending he wasn't in the room.

Sighing, he shuffled across the bed to his friend and wrapped his arms around him comfortingly. Jack sniffled loudly and raised his head from his knees to face him, his bright, blue eyes still covered with black blotches.

"I don't deserve to have you, Mark."

Jack shoved his head into Mark's shoulder, and clung onto his shirt as if it was his lifeline. He sobbed relentlessly into the crook of his neck, and in turn Mark rocked them back and forth upon the bed. They eventually released each other from their arms, and Jack had a look of admiration in his eyes as he smiled at Mark.

"Thank you Mark, for everything you've done for me. You make my days just, so much happier."

Grinning from ear to ear, Mark pulled the covers over Jack, who had already laid back down. He turned his head over to face Mark, who was just about to hop up out of the bed.

"Please stay with me?" Jack pleaded.

Smiling pleasantly, Mark slipped under the covers and rested his head upon the fluffy pillow. He and Jack exchanged a few glances at each other, just enjoying the tranquility of the moment. Mark breathed out slowly and placed both of his hands on his chest before closing his eyes, darkness engulfing his vision. He was about to drift off to sleep when Jack spoke to him again.

"Thanks for staying..." he whispered.

Mark's cheeks blushed a light pink and he smiled softly to himself.

"Anytime, Jack. I'm always here for you."


	13. Lies

When Mark woke up, he felt a warm body pressed up against his side. He opened his eyes tiredly and squinted to make out the figure. A mass of bright, green hair was next to his shoulder, and that's when Mark remembered he had slept with Jack that night.

_I wonder what he was crying about?_

As Mark thought to himself, the body next to him stirred and yawned loudly. Jack twisted his head around, still slightly dazed from sleeping, and faced his friend. Mark stifled a giggle at Jack's bed head; he looked absolutely horrendous. His dyed hair was standing upright in places, and was tangled beyond belief near the fringe. Opening his eyes fully, Jack noticed Mark staring at his hair, and quickly ran his fingers through it to make it look normal.

"Fuckin' hair..." he complained.

He patted it down hurriedly, and looked at Mark for his opinion with raised eyebrows. Mark, however, couldn't contain his laugh this time.

"What?" Jack asked, slightly agitated.

"It hasn't changed!" Mark giggled childishly.

Jack's eyes widened in embarrassment as his cheeks blushed slightly and his heartbeat quickened.

"S-Shut up! Your hair is worse than mine in most of your videos!"

Mark had to agree with Jack on that; half the time he couldn't be bothered to wear pants while recording, let alone brush his hair. He looked down at his chest and realised he had slept in his clothes last night.

"I'm gettin' up," Jack told Mark, he too still in his day clothes.

He sat upright on the bed and stretched his arms above his head, his eyes closed and his hair sticking out all over the place. He swung his legs over the edge and placed them on the carpet. He sleepily rose to his feet and walked out of the room, probably to the bathroom to have a shower. Mark laid back on the pillow, still not in any position to wake up. He felt his eyes drooping, and sleep overtaking his body slowly. He tried to fight off the tiredness, but found himself giving in to the comforting darkness of rest, his mind content and his body peaceful.

〰

When he woke up again, Mark didn't know what time it was. He looked at the digital clock on the bedside table next to him. Squinting, he tried to make out the digits, his vision slightly blurred from sleeping.

_9:47AM? Is that what it says?_

He practically rolled out of bed and ended up squatting on the ground, having nearly fallen off the edge. Standing upright, he looked at the disheveled bed sheets where he and Jack had slept last night. Then, a thought struck him.

_Where's Jack?_

Scratching his head curiously, he looked around the room for any clues as to where he might have gone.

_He's probably downstairs eating breakfast_ he reasoned with himself.

Glancing back down at his clothes from yesterday, Mark decided he needed a shower, like, now. He refused to smell himself, but he assumed his scent wasn't the greatest in the morning. Nearly fully awake now, he walked off in the direction of the upstairs bathroom, just because it was closer than the one in his bedroom. As he passed the mirror in the hallway, he could have sworn his eyes were black in the reflection, but when he glanced back at it, his eyes were their normal colour.

_I must be paranoid about Anti..._

He rounded the corner to the bathroom and placed his fingers on the handle. He pushed the bathroom door open, and a sight he would never forget greeted him. Jack was shirtless, facing the mirror with a look of shock on his face. His arms were covered with raised red scars and in his hand he had liquid foundation; some marks on his left arm already covered by the lotion.

Mark stood there, speechless, as Jack quickly slipped a shirt on to cover most of the cuts. His eyes watered as he avoided looking at him, shifting from one foot to the other remorsefully.

"Why?" Mark whispered, the word wounding Jack.

"I'm s-sorry..." Jack stammered shamefully.

Staring at him in disbelief, he clutched handfuls of hair in his fist and sent Jack an exasperated smile.

"You're fucking sorry?" he said through clenched teeth.

"I didn't-"

"I asked you yesterday if you had anything else you wanted to tell me, and you said NO. And here we are, one fucking day later, and I find out you've been self-harming? And what's worse, is that you didn't even tell me; I found out by accident!"

Jack evaded his glaring eyes.

"JACK," he spat the name bitterly, "were you ever going to tell me about this? Or was I supposed to be oblivious as fuck to what's actually happening?"

Jack was on the verge of tears by this point, but he was sick of crying every two seconds. He kept his feelings contained, and desperately tried to hide the truth from Mark.

"I was eventually going to tell you, Mark! I just wasn't ready t-"

"Are you kidding me with this bullshit?" Mark roared, arms outstretched in rage. "You think I'm too stupid to realise when someone's lying to my face?"

His vision blurry with tears he refused to spill, Jack looked down at the tiles miserably while Mark continued ranting.

"Please tell me what you're hiding, Jack." He took a deep breath before continuing. "You can trust me, you know that, right?" Mark asked, his voice noticeably softer than before.

And Jack actually considered it. He thought over the ways the conversation would go, if he decided to tell Mark the truth, and the reaction Mark would have to his biggest secret. He was just about to open his mouth when a familiar voice spoke up from the back of his mind.

**_You really think he'll accept a murderer for a friend?_ **

His face dropped slightly. _He's right..._ Jack thought. _Mark would never accept me._ He shook his head sadly in response to Anti, but Mark took it the wrong way and an angry glower crossed his face.

"You don't think I'm trustworthy?"

His voice had dropped to a whisper, but the tone he used was deadly. Mark put on a laugh to disguise his inner pain, and faked a smile at him; the expression turning into more of a grimace as he held it.

"You know what, fine! Don't talk to me until you decide to tell me what's going on. I don't even want to see you until you're ready!"

Mark glared daggers at Jack, who stood silently next to the sink. When he realised Jack wasn't going out of his way to remove himself from the scene, he stormed out of the bathroom, frustrated that Jack was still hiding something important from him. He made sure to slam the door shut as he exited the room, and he thought he heard whimpers coming from inside as he left. In the moment though, Mark couldn't have cared less.

_I'll record something to get my mind off Jack_ he thought to himself as he walked down the stairs.

What he didn't expect, however, was the same deep voice from before to speak to him again.

**_That was a dick move, Mark._ **

Abruptly stopping in his tracks, Mark looked around the corridor to find the owner of the voice. Upon finding no one in his proximity, he cautiously made his way to his recording room, wondering the entire time who the voice belonged to.

_Am I losing my mind?_

〰

Jack was frozen next to the sink, in a state of shock from the conversation he had just had with Mark. It felt too surreal, as if it was nothing but a bad dream... But reality came and hit him like a truck. He stumbled back against the bathroom cabinets and clutched his head, a whimper escaping his lips as he came to terms with the situation.

_Even Mark hates me... Am I that unloveable?_

**_Do you really need to ask yourself that question?_ **

Ignoring the voice in his head, Jack sat down on the ground and relived Mark's words. His mood shifted to a negative outlook, and Anti took this as a golden opportunity to take control. Jack's head abruptly felt like it was being split open, and his limbs felt as if they were ablaze. Jack's mouth opened in a silent scream, and Anti tormented Jack cruelly and laughed at the agony he was causing him.

Jack's languished body was unable to fight any longer. He let out short gasps of air and his torso jerked forwards as he moaned loudly in excruciating pain; his eyes filling with a strange, black substance that was thicker than his tears. He couldn't fight Anti forever. He couldn't find the willpower to resist any longer. The temptation to finally give up overtook his thoughts, and he quickly complied with Anti to end his hellish torture.

Slipping into the depths of his mind, Jack watched on in fear of what Anti would do, now that he was in control. He stood up, somehow not stumbling as he rose to his feet due to the pain his limbs were in only moments ago. Swiftly opening the door Mark slammed shut, he walked out of the bathroom silently, purposely making his footsteps as light as possible. He crept down the stairs without alerting Mark, who was still recording a video for his channel. Making his way over to the kitchen, he slowly opened the cutlery drawer and picked up the longest, sharpest knife that was available. Smirking to himself, he sneaked towards Mark's recording room, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he silently opened the door. Inside, Mark was facing a computer with his back to Anti and headphones covering his ears, completely unaware of the other presence in the room.

**_This'll be fun!_ **


	14. Bindings

"Oh, well fuck you!" Mark screamed at the monster attacking him, pulling out two middle fingers as a form of defence. A small headache thrived at the back of his mind, but he paid little attention to it as the creature came at him yet again.

"Why won't you leave-me-alone?!" he asked, his words blending together in stress.

The creature disappeared from his sight, and Mark cautiously rotated his character; fearful of where it was hiding. Just as he was about to talk to his viewers again, the monster's face popped onto the screen with an ear-splitting shriek that caused Mark to jump away from the computer in fright.

"FUCK THIS GAME! I'm done, I'm finished, I'm stopping, never again."

Looking over at the monitor, he saw how loud he had screamed in the recording and realised that headphone users would most likely lose their ability to hear after watching the video. Mark was just about to turn his attention back to the  camera, when he saw a figure in the reflection of the screen, standing a couple of metres behind him. It was completely still, and Mark soon realised it had a knife in its right hand. Trying to remain calm, he turned to face the camera again and tried to hide his fear behind a wide smile. However, the expression did not reach his eyes.

Palms sweaty and veins bulging, Mark uneasily ran his fingers through his hair and took short, shallow breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. His fingers shook slightly as he prepared to do his outro, and his voice was merely a whisper when he began talking.

"S-So thank-you guys so much f-for watchi-"

He stopped talking mid-sentence, as the figure was now directly behind his chair, staring at the back of his head ominously. Squinting to make out its face in the screen, Mark finally saw the bright, green hair and stiffened in place.

_Oh my fucking God._

Just as Mark was about to spin around and knock the knife out of his hand, a fist slammed into the back of his skull and forced his forehead to smack against the camera. The glass on the screen cracked, and Mark's unconscious form lay on the desk with specks of blood matted through his thick hair. The figure behind his body smiled to himself, having completed his task successfully.

〰

Darkness. That was all Mark could see when he finally opened his weary eyes. He shook his head to gain full consciousness, but still couldn't make out his surroundings due to the lack of light. A sticky substance clung to the back of his head, and he raised his arm to feel it, only to find out that both of his hands were tightly tied together by a thick rope.

"Shit..." he murmured to himself.

The concrete floor was cool beneath him, as he found himself sprawled there when he had woken up. Still not able to see anything, Mark rose to his feet clumsily without the aid of his hands, and walked around the room. Being cautious of making a ruckus, he crept through the area, his footsteps echoing throughout the somewhat large space as he felt his way around the room at a sluggish pace. His outstretched hands touched a wall, and with great relief Mark began to walk parallel to it, hoping to gain a sense of how big the room was by doing so.

So far, the room seemed fairly empty. He had yet to trip or walk into something, and was proud of himself for exploring the room covertly. As soon as he thought this, however, he smacked his head into what he assumed was a shelf of some sort and he heard multiple items crash to the ground, one of them happening to land on his foot.

"Fuck!" Mark yelled as a wrench landed on his toes.

Realising his mistake, Mark attempted to cover his mouth with his bound hands and tried to quiet his short, stressful breaths as he heard clamorous footsteps approaching. He couldn't make out what direction they were coming from, but he soon found out who they belonged to as a stream of bright light filtered through the room. A green haired figure walked through the lit doorway with a smile plastered on his face, the fringe covering up the crazy look in his black eyes.

Twirling the knife casually in his grasp, Anti switched the light on and averted his gaze to Mark, who stared wide-eyed back at him. Removing his tied hands from his mouth, he took short, quick steps away from Anti and hastily observed his surroundings, recognising the room he was in instantly.

_I'm in my garage?_

His car was parked a couple of metres away from where he was standing , but while he had been surveying the room, Anti closed the door that served as the only escape. Mark's eyes snapped over to Anti as he heard the lock click, and he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm himself.

"W-What are you doing?"

Ignoring his question, Anti sauntered over to the shelves Mark had walked into, while Mark himself backed away from him.

"Will you behave?"

"Huh?"

Anti looked over the shelves, and chuckled when he spotted what he needed. Taking out multiple rolls of duct tape, he glanced back at Mark, who had cowered into the corner furthest from him.

"Oh, don't be like that! I don't want to hurt you."

There was a pause before Anti considered rewording his statement.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" he muttered to himself as he shook his head. "I want to hurt you, just not the other you."

Mark stared at him, perplexed as to what he was talking about.

_Other you? What's that supposed to mean?_

Chuckling darkly, Anti slowly approached Mark, in no hurry to get what he wanted. He knew that Mark was trapped, and that there was no way he could possibly escape, as he had made sure the door was locked and that the garage door remote had been smashed beyond repair. There was no hope for Mark. He had already won.

"J-Jack? Can you hear me?" Mark stuttered desperately.

Anti's face twitched, but he soon covered up the expression with a lopsided grin.

"Jack is gone," he mocked, purposely quoting the nightmare he had given Jack.

"I don't believe you."

Keeping his head low, Anti refused to divert his dauntless gaze from Mark's uncertain one. Their eyes locked as they slowly circled each other around the room, Mark eventually walking behind his car to serve as a barrier between him and his former friend. Then it all happened so fast.

Mark made a dash for the door, and struggled to turn the handle with his tied hands. The door wouldn't budge, and any hope Mark had previously diminished as Anti hastily covered his mouth with duct tape. He screamed and cursed, but all that came out of his mouth was a series of incoherent sounds. Anti ignored his muffled cries as he dragged him to the centre of the garage, Mark thrashing about in his grasp in an attempt to escape his clutches.

"You know, none of this would've happened if you hadn't made Jack feel pathetic. So, I kind of thank you for that!"

While Mark tried to make sense of what Anti was saying, he was punched in the ribs and forced to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his chest protectively and took deep breaths to recover from Anti winding him.

"You were so harsh on him, I wouldn't be surprised  if he's enjoying seeing you in pain right now," he said as he kicked him forcibly in the gut.

Mark gasped as a sharp pain penetrated his lungs, and he curled into himself as he struggled to breathe. Part of the duct tape had already peeled off his mouth, so he pushed his tongue against it to allow his speech to become somewhat intelligible again. He placed his bound hands on the floor beneath his torso and struggled to push himself up so that he was facing Anti, his teeth clenched together in defiance as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Jack's not like you. He wouldn't even have the heart to hurt others, you psychopath."

Instead of attacking him, Anti simply laughed at him madly.

"Oh, we've hurt people alright! He just didn't have the guts to tell you!"

Mark lay there, a lost and confused expression apparent on his face. His mouth hung open slightly in shock, and his mind was somewhere else as Anti squatted down next to him, his knife still in hand.

He didn't even flinch from how close Anti was to him. "But he told me that you hadn't attacked anybody other than m-"

"That's just another lie he fed you. He was determined to hide the truth from everybody!"

Anti then swiftly slashed the blade across Mark's left arm and kicked him in the stomach. Mark screamed when the blade came in contact with his skin, but the sound quickly died as he attempted to hide his pain and fear. However, Anti's face softened slightly as he surveyed Mark's condition, and looked at the long cut he had given him only seconds beforehand. It almost looked like he regretted doing it.

"Now, I'm only going to ask this once," he said, his voice almost comforting. "I need you to stop resisting."

Almost amused by the seriousness of his voice, Mark did a double take to make sure Anti wasn't joking.

"What are you talking about?"

Anti's black eyes had a hint of mischief in them as a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You'll see."

Just as Mark was about to question him further, Anti spoke in a childlike manner that made the words he whispered even more disturbing.

"Dark, do you want to come out to play with me?"


	15. Defiances

Before Mark could try to make any sense of what Anti had said, his already splitting headache amplified in pain, and he let out a quiet whimper as his vision slightly blurred. His body was shaking uncontrollably, and he curled in on himself as he gripped his head from the sudden torment.

"I bet you want it to end already, don't you?" Anti said smugly.

Mark didn't answer, and he began moaning loudly as the pain intensified. A string of giggles echoed around the garage, and Anti raised his fist tauntingly.

"Jack wanted it to end."

He punched Mark's upper back, between the shoulder blades, and Mark began choking on air as he struggled to breathe for a moment. A cry for help escaped his lips as he whimpered loudly, no longer able to hide his fear.

_**Let me out.** _

Mark nearly gasped in surprise at the sound of the familiar, deep voice. It was surprisingly calm, and for the first time since it had spoken, Mark came to the terms with the fact that the voice was inside his head.

"I see you've met Dark!" Anti jeered, obviously pleased with his appearance.

He then lifted his leg and slammed it against Mark's face, an awful cracking sound reverberating around the room. Mark howled in pain, and clutched his bloody nose desperately to protect it from further harm.

Anti grinned maliciously, and raised his fist above Mark's temple.

"Why don't you let him out, Mark? It'll end your suffering."

The fist came crashing down onto Mark's temple, who in turn collapsed onto the floor; his head screaming in agony at the pain it was enduring. Mark strained his neck to look up at Anti, whose expression could only be described as 'insane', judging by the sick grin sprawled across his face. He looked back down at the knife in his other hand, then again at Mark's bruised body.

It looked like he couldn't decide what to do next.

Mark, seeing an opportunity to stall his inevitable pain, responded to Anti's previous question.

"Who the fuck even is 'Dark'?" he asked, dread consuming his thoughts as he waited for Anti to answer him.

"Oh, he hasn't introduced himself already?" Anti looked slightly disappointed at this, but nonetheless continued speaking. "He's a part of you, silly!"

Anti laughed at this, and ran his fingers lightly along the blade of his knife, his mind obviously somewhere else. Mark, however, was just as confused as before.

"So what, is h-he like you?" He struggled to speak normally.

The laughter abruptly stopped as Anti came back to the present, and looked down at Mark intensely.

"More or less so. He's stronger than me, and definitely more patient. I would've already started torturing you to let me out if I were him."

Mark's face immediately paled at the thought of a monster like Anti living deep inside of him. And it wasn't even the fact that he would be possessed that frightened him. It was the revelation that this thing was actually a part of him, a side to him he never knew about.

And he was sure as hell he didn't want it to show.

"I don't want to let him out," Mark defied, a look of contumacy flaring in his eyes.

Anti appeared somewhat offended by Mark's sudden courage to stand up to him, but he soon smothered the expression with a tainted smile.

"You don't really have much of a choice..."

"I don't care. I won't let a fucking monster control me and possibly hurt people."

Looking at him in disbelief, Anti barked a sharp laugh and spun the knife between his fingers. It appeared to be a habit of his.

"Possibly? POSSIBLY hurt people?! That's the funniest fuckin' thing I've heard come from your mouth!

Mark's eyebrows rose curiously. _But Jack told me-_

"Jack told you lies, Mark."

Now it was Mark's turn to stare in disbelief. _Did he just-_

"Sure did, Markimoo!"

"What the fuck?!" Mark cursed, obviously no longer in control of his emotions. He was in pain, hurt and confused. _Why would Jack continue to lie to me? First with his 'issues', second with his cuts, and now with this?_

"Why w-would he n-not tell me the t-truth about anything?" he stuttered, some of the blood running from his nose making its way into his mouth.

Anti chuckled to himself and covered his mouth like a child, the blade in his hand ruining the 'innocent' act he was putting up.

"He was weak. He was a coward. He was afraid he would lose you."

He paused, and looked Mark directly in the eyes. It was like he was searching for something, anything.

"Dark, are you even trying?"

It was at that moment Mark realised the pain from only moments earlier had subsided to a dull throb in the back of his mind, and he breathed out a sigh of relief as his suffering was over. For now.

"He's too fuckin' nice to you..." Anti grumbled, clearly displeased with the turn of events. "I have to do all the shitty work myself..."

He made his way over to the discarded roll of duct tape on the floor, and quickly walked back to Mark before he could try to sit up. His eyes widened as Anti quickly stuck a piece of duct tape firmly over his mouth to prevent him from speaking again, and as he crouched down to get closer to him.

"Now I'm only going to say this one more time. I need you to stop resisting," Anti commanded, his lip twitching slightly.

Mark lowered his face so it was covered by shadows, but the subtle shake of his head nonetheless infuriated Anti.

"Fine... Have it your way."

Anti reached out and grabbed Mark's bound wrists, holding them in an iron-like grip with his left hand. Mark could do nothing but helplessly kick his legs in the air to get away from him, as he gently placed the knife onto the skin of his forearm. He attempted to look away as Anti dragged the blade tauntingly slow against his flesh, a silent promise that he was about to torment his very existence.

Then he applied pressure to the weapon.

Mark's skin sliced open as Anti cut a thin line down his left arm, but he managed to contain his whimpers as the knife moved to another place on his arm. Each time Anti cut him, he penetrated his flesh deeper, and caused more blood to seep out of his cuts. He managed to bear the pain for a couple of minutes before Anti decided to change his methods.

He nearly tore Mark's shirt as he hurriedly lifted it off of his body and over his head, leaving the slightly older man shirtless, and vulnerable. Anti moved over so that he was sitting on Mark's upper legs, and smiled at the sight before him. Mark's bare back was facing him, a blank canvas that screamed at Anti to be creative.

Blood began rushing out of his torso as Anti carved the blade deep into Mark's flesh, the knife just missing major arteries and organs in the process. He didn't want to hurt him too badly.

And then something inside of Mark just, snapped. A craving for bloodshed infested his mind as Anti continued to cut him, clearly not paying attention to Mark's facial expressions. The feeling was incredibly uncomfortable, and kept nagging at him as the knife dug into his own flesh, Mark having since forgotten how many swipes it had made against his skin. A muffled moan escaped his lips, and Anti stopped cutting for a brief second.

"Am I finally getting to you, Mark?"

Before he could even attempt to answer with his covered lips, Anti thrust the knife deep into Mark's lower back, and held it there. The pain Mark had been experiencing before finally became unbearable, and he let out a stifled scream that robbed him of his breath.

A twisted smile formed on Anti's face, and he took the pleasure of Mark's pain as he twisted the knife roughly inside of his body. Blood was now gushing out of the severe wound, but Anti quickly removed the knife from Mark's flesh when he realised it could be life threatening.

Mark felt like crying, but refused to show even more weakness in front of his foe. Instead, he gritted his teeth against the duct tape, squeezed his eyes shut, and fought as hard as he could against the unknown force that was present in his mind. And just when he thought his situation couldn't possibly get any worse, it did.

A wave of excruciating pain caused him to scream shrilly into the duct tape as it traveled like electricity through his veins. Anti failed to hold back a pleased laugh, as Mark was on the brink of losing this fight against his other side.

"Come on, Dark. We've got places to be and people to kill!"

Mark's eyes widened in shock, not at all expecting that sentence to be thrown in his direction. _People to kill? No... No, I can't let them, I won't let them!_ He desperately tried to endure the pain, to resist the urge to just, let go of everything. But it was too hard. He couldn't fight any longer.

"Oh, that's right; I forgot to mention it earlier. Your dear Jack has committed murder! Twice!"

Mark lay there in pain, and he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. He almost refused to believe what he was hearing. But, he knew that there was one thing Jack had still kept secret from him. One thing that probably would have remained a secret if it weren't for Anti. _Jack has... killed?_

Anti continued speaking, clearly amused with Mark's reaction. "And what's funny, is that you never suspected him capable of doing something like that, did you? Behind all of the laughs and charity work..."

And in the final moment before he lost control, Anti spoke once more to him.

"Isn't it amazing, Mark? What a smile can hide..."


	16. Murders

It was like seeing the world through another perspective as Mark lost the ability to control his limbs and voice. There was no more pain, as Anti had assured, but the unnerving craving for violence still surged within his own body; further convincing him that this situation could not possibly end well.

"Dark?"

His tone was questionable, as if Anti did not quite believe it to be him. As if he had doubts that he was strong enough to control Mark, doubts he would be able to control his own body. And Dark wouldn't have any doubts.

"Of course it's me, you little shit."

Anti looked slightly baffled at Dark's attitude, but nonetheless grinned and tried to spark a conversation. He had, after all, just freed him from his own prison.

"I know what you're thinking, cunt."

Dark abruptly sat up and glared at Anti, black orbs having replaced his familiar chocolate eyes. A look of spite crossed his face, but he made no effort whatsoever to cover up the expression.

"You think that just because you harmed Mark, I should automatically respect you." A tight smile crept across his lips, but he held it there, and refused to let it fade. "But you tend to forget I'm in this body too."

Anti's smile shattered completely, and his body language immediately implied submission as he begged Dark to be perceptive.

"I know I shouldn't have cut you, and I'm sorry. But what the hell was I supposed to do?"

Dark's eyebrows arched curiously, urging Anti to continue.

"You were taking your sweet, sweet time and I was just expected to watch? To keep an eye on him, while you slowly rendered him of his self control? You know I can't do that!"

He rose to his feet, wincing in pain from the wounds, and faced Anti; Dark looking slightly down at the younger man.

"Well, excuse me if I like to ensure my body stays unscathed while I take control."

Anti could have sworn that Dark glanced down at the cuts Jack had made himself, but refused to comment on it.

"Now, enough talking. You said you wanted to 'play' with me?"

At those words, Anti's face lit up with excitement and he giggled nonsensically at Dark.

"Of course I do! Communication through thoughts can only satisfy us for so long..."

He practically skipped his way over to the only exit from the room, and fumbled through his pocket to find the keys. Upon grabbing them, he let out a little laugh of joy and opened the door, Dark close behind him. Anti made his way through the home while Dark followed him curiously; although he knew the layout of the house well, he didn't understand why they were heading to the kitchen.

Anti pointed to a particular drawer, and Dark cracked a smile as he opened it. Forks, spoons and blunt knifes greeted him, but he wasn't interested in any of them. His eyes darted over to the sharp blades and his grin broadened as he picked one up. He exchanged a glance with Anti, and they both wordlessly agreed on a plan for the night.

They both exited the kitchen and walked casually back to the garage, where Mark's car could be seen almost glinting in the dim room. Anti flung the car keys to Dark, who in turn grunted as he opened the driver's door.

"Hey, um, Dark?" Anti questioned as he hopped into the passenger seat.

"What?" he replied in an exasperated tone.

"How's Mark doing?"

Another grunt. Probably one of irritation.

"He's being a real pain in my ass right now."

Anti, curious to know more, prodded Dark to keep talking.

"Could you, I don't know, elaborate on that?"

Dark huffed as he pressed the button on the keys to open the garage door, and avoided Anti's gaze as he answered him.

"He won't stop fighting me. He wants out so badly..."

He paused as he reversed the car out of the driveway, but continued speaking once they were on the road, watching the garage door close behind them.

"It's beginning to hurt."

They drove on in silence for a few kilometres, until Anti finally spoke up.

"So, how exactly are we gonna go about this? I mean, gettin' away with this sort of thing in Ireland is a lot easier than big-ass L.A."

Dark actually laughed at that. "Don't worry about that kind of thing. We'll sort it out later. The hardest part is always finding, and choosing, a victim. And at the minute, I'm not really feeling capable of waiting for the perfect person to come about."

Just as he said that, a group of young, drunk people staggered around the corner of the road; most of them completely oblivious to the car fast approaching them. Smirking at the ripe opportunity, Dark pulled over and turned the engine off. He gestured to Anti to stay inside, and then he made his way to the mass of people on the other side of the road. Quickly counting the number of heads, Dark hid his knife in his pant's pocket to play it safe. He counted nine people; only two of which appeared to be sober.

"What are you folk doing out at this time of night?" Dark asked, pretending to be concerned.

One of the few sober people, a woman, stepped out from the group. She appeared to be older than the rest.

"Sorry if we worried you with our behaviour, sir, but I can assure you these people mean no harm to anybody. They're simply on their way home from a night at the bar," she stated, a British accent apparent through her dialect.

Dark, pretending to care, nodded his head in understanding.

"Yes, well, one could guess that... At least you're keeping an eye on them. Say, do you need help escorting them home? It must be tiring babysitting them all night."

The woman giggled. "Well, you got that right! I'm the only sensible one here, other than Riley. She can't drink though, so that's probably why."

"You don't have to tell everybody that," a girl murmured from the group; presumably Riley. She appeared to be the only other sober person in the group.

"So, do you need a hand?"

The woman's expression abruptly turned serious. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I'm going to have to decline. Goodnight, sir."

She turned her back away from him, and led the group further down the street. Dark, pissed at himself for letting them leave, stomped back over to the car to find Anti snickering from the passenger's seat.

"Wipe that fucking smile off your face," Dark commanded as he entered the car.

"Have you always had horrible people skills?"

"... Shut up."

Anti smiled again, but that quickly dropped to a frown as he thought about their situation.

"So, how do you want to kill them?"

Dark hummed in deep thought, prodding through the possibilities that wouldn't immediately get them arrested, such as ambushing them. That would cause way too much noise. It had to be something quiet, something so sneaky they wouldn't see it coming.

"OK," Dark said, "here's the plan. You need to get Riley first, before anybody else, because she's completely sober and is very much aware of her surroundings. Then, I'll get Em a-"

"Who's Riley?"

Dark drummed his fingers against his forehead. "That's right, you weren't there... Well, she has brown hair that's as long as her shoulders, and um, a circular face?"

Anti did not seem impressed. "Seriously? That's the best description you can come up with?"

Huffing in frustration, Dark looked back at the group which had nearly left their line of sight, and squinted to make out Riley.

"You know what? New plan. Let's just follow them and take them out one by one. How about that?"

Anti held his hand over his heart dramatically and blinked rapidly at Dark. "Aw, you know my preferences for murder too well!"

"Yeah yeah, let's just do this. Otherwise I might have to kill you instead..." Dark's voice dropped off near the end of the sentiment. Anti stared at him in disbelief, his composure immediately turning serious.

"Is it that bad?"

Dark grunted, not in annoyance this time, and clutched his head for a couple of seconds before talking to Anti again.

"Yes, it's that bad! Mark just, won't give up at this point."

Anti remained silent as Dark exited the car again. He, too, got out of his seat and looked at Dark to confirm he was allowed to help. Dark nodded, and he then walked off towards the group at a brisk pace to try to catch up with them. When they were only a hundred metres away, Dark motioned for Anti to follow him into the bushes on the side of the street. Then, they became parallel to the group, who were walking at a very slow speed.

"Hey Emmm," one of the guys slurred, "I think the grass is following us."

Anti's face paled as he ducked lower into the bushes. Dark nearly swore at him right then and there, but luckily Em thought the man was too drunk to function properly. As they let the group wander a bit ahead, Dark clutched Anti's neon green hair and pulled it harshly.

"That's what you get for growing a meadow on your head."

One of the guys in the group had fallen behind the rest, and Dark took the golden opportunity to run out onto the road, grab him from behind and cover his mouth while backing away into the bushes. Anti smirked in glee and took his knife out of his pocket, while the drunk man's eyes widened at the weapon. He tried clawing his way out of Dark's arms, but his body was in no state to do anything drastic.

Dark took his own knife out of his pocket while Anti held onto the young man, and then held it against his throat menacingly for a couple of seconds. The blade hovered over his neck for too long, and Anti was getting impatient.

"Hurry up, they'll notice he's gone soon!"

Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he slit the man's throat quickly, blood instantly pouring from the deadly wound. Dark was panting, almost struggling to control his breathing.

"Hey hey hey Dark, you alright buddy?"

"Yep, Mark's actually putting up a fight..."

He waited for Dark to recover, and in the meantime he shoved the body into the bushes.

"Are you good now?"

Dark's hands lingered around his head, but he dropped them when he saw Anti staring at him with concern.

"Come on, let's get the rest of them."

Anti didn't seem too convinced that Dark's troubles were gone. "Are you sure you want to continue?"

Smirking, Dark faced Anti with a look of determination. "I'm up for the challenge."

And so, they continued. Their system was to take down person at a time, as that was much more manageable than taking on the entire group at once. In Dark's current state, Anti doubted he would be able to fight as well as himself. They only really encountered a problem when Em finally noticed some people were missing.

"Hey Riley, where's Kyle, Liz and Mike?" When she received no answer, Em then realised Riley was gone as well.

It was at that point that both Dark and Anti decided to kill the rest of the group all at once, as Em was beginning to panic and would soon draw attention to what remained of the group.

Anti stealthily crept up behind Em, and swiftly covered her mouth with his hand and wrapped his arm around her neck. The knife he held pressed threateningly against her throat, and she let out a muffled whimper as the blade slid across her skin. He walked backwards as the drunks continued talking among themselves, completely oblivious to the dire situation they happened to be in.

Dark watched Anti drag the blade across her throat, and watched with satisfaction as she crumpled to the ground; life quickly draining from her light blue eyes. It was then that Mark decided to fight with everything he had.

Nearly screaming in frustration, Dark desperately clutched onto his head as Mark struggled to regain control. Anti looked over to where Dark was, leaning over and clenching his teeth, and made a mad dash to where he was in hopes of somehow being of use to him.

"He won't stop!" Dark yelled, having forgotten to keep quiet.

He lifted his head to look at Anti, who in turn was surprised by the look of pain that flashed across his face. While Dark's body shook violently, he dropped to the ground and kneeled over, a primitive howl escaping his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"W-What do you want me to do, Dark?"

But there was no response. Dark's body suddenly stopped convulsing, and he gently lifted his hands off of his temples as he turned his head to the side. His eyes, however, were no longer black. Instead, chocolate brown irises flitted around the area, as if still in a daze.

"Why, you son of a bitch..."

Mark's eyes only had time to focus on the fist crashing down on him before everything abruptly turned black.


	17. Revelations

With his head groggy and vision blurry, Mark saw a green haired man leaning eagerly towards him, only to see him snarl when he fully opened his eyes. A look of disappointment and anger flashed across his face before it quickly disappeared, black eyes shifting into coloured ones; that of a light, dazzling blue. The man, Jack, Mark soon realised, held his fingers to his temples and breathed in and out slowly. He lifted his gaze to Mark, who held it intently.

"What happened?" Mark croaked, using his elbows to raise his upper body higher. He took note that he was in his bedroom, laying down underneath the blankets on his bed. The window across from him let in streaks of sunshine, notifying him that it was daytime.

Jack suddenly appeared uncomfortable in the room, as if that sole question dug deep into his core and penetrated his very being. Mark instantly knew that the answer wasn't going to be pretty.

"W-What happened to those people, Jack?"

But Jack wasn't really listening. He was staring at his clasped hands, knuckles slightly shaking as he fixated his eyes at his intertwined fingers. While his breathing was consistent, it was shaky and shallow, clearly showing his fear and uncertainty of the subject at matter.

"Jack. I need you to answer me."

He received no response.

"What happened to Riley? T-To Em?"

And when Mark said their names, it was suddenly like they were real people. Actual people with actual lives to live, innocent people who's opportunities and rights had been stripped from them.

Jack finally looked Mark in the eye. "You know what happened to Riley. You were there."

The fuzziness of his mind suddenly cleared, and memories of muffled screams and bloody wounds clouded his thoughts as he remembered the previous night. He remembered the smile in Em's eyes, the shyness of Riley's personality. He remembered a dozen pointless things about the other people, who would forever remain nameless in his mind. He also remembered Anti, and the sick twist in his smirk every time he claimed another victim.

"W-What about Em?"

Jack's lips pursed, as if deciding whether or not to tell him everything that had happened. Mark had, after all, been unconscious during the event, and he could easily hide the truth to spare him the details. But Jack recalled with great regret the aftermath of hiding his own secrets, which found a way out of his mouth anyway. And he refused to allow that kind of event to occur again; Mark's face when he heard Jack's secrets convinced him not to hide anything from him anymore. He was going to be as upfront and honest as possible as to evade that situation again at all costs.

"She died of blood loss," Jack stated somewhat indifferently. That wasn't his intention, but Mark interpreted it that way and silently questioned his friend's tone.

"W-Well, w-what about the rest of t-them?" Mark asked, his voice even shakier than before.

Giving direct eye contact, it was the first time Jack showed any hint of weakness to Mark as his face dropped to a look of fear; fear of what, Mark couldn't be sure.

"I..." Jack started. It almost looked painful for him to splutter out the words. "I-I killed them... A-All of t-them..."

Mark swore loudly, and grasped at the ends of his hair; trying to hold onto something to keep him grounded in reality. But his thoughts continued drifting to the previous night, and he could tell Jack's were too. It was written all over his face.

"I fuckin' killed them all without a second thought!"

That sentence brought Mark back into the present as he stared at Jack in disbelief. _What doesn't he understand? He is not Antisepticeye!_

"Jack, you did not kill those people, and neither did I-"

"Then who the fuck did, Mark? A doppelgänger? A cosplayer? That was _me_ who slit their throats, who stabbed their hearts, _**who**_ **_took_** **_their_** **_lives._** "

Jack paused, and coughed violently for a few moments before continuing, while Mark watched him with utmost concern.

"And I just, I can't... stop..."

He then fiddled with the sleeves of his top, that dropped off his wrists and hid his problems from prying eyes. Mark could tell, however, that his fingers were tracing the scars underneath the fabric; an action Jack was now attempting to cover up by rubbing his wrists against his knees. He still appeared to be fearful, even though he had told Mark the truth about the night prior. _What is he so afraid of?!_

"Jack, I don't want a repeat of what happened last night. You can tell me anything."

But there was no response. He simply looked at him with dazed eyes, eyes that seemed to have lost their spark. And Mark hated that.

"Talk to me Jack! I am here for you, dammit!"

Jack's eyes swelled with tears that refused to leak as his eye twitched unexpectedly. He abruptly groaned as he rose his hands to his temples, and shifted his gaze to the ground while taking short breaths. His face scrunched up in pain and Mark suddenly recognised this as another attempt by Anti to gain control.

Reaching out towards him, Mark placed one hand on the Irishman's shoulder and used the other to raise his head. When Mark could finally see his eyes again, he nearly recoiled in shock and fear. For there was nothing but an inky blackness that consumed the previous colour of his eyes. Except, Jack was still there.

This wasn't Anti.

Mark struggled to understand. An expression of almost pity crossed his face as he gently caressed the skin underneath Jack's black, hollow eyes. And Jack, clueless as to why Mark was doing this, just decided to accept the action and lean into his hand. The touch of his skin comforted him in a way, but he knew he couldn't stay like that forever.

Then Mark lost it. The emptiness of Jack's once beautiful eyes, the small frown constantly tugging at his lips, the way his personality had changed so much in the space of a couple of days. It shocked Mark. Or rather, it tore him up inside.

He blamed himself for Jack's suffering. Even though he never thought of his own.

He wrapped his arms around Jack swiftly, and held onto him desperately; tears finally cascading down his cheeks as he gave in to the sadness. Jack wasn't quite himself anymore. He was, in Mark's eyes, partially broken, and not at all the same man he was a couple of months ago. Jack, on the other hand, was partially surprised by the warm embrace, but was quick to reciprocate the movement. He nestled his head on Mark's shoulder and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds of bliss.

He liked this feeling.

This feeling of comfort, security. A feeling he hadn't felt with someone in a long time. He tightened the hug to express to Mark he wasn't ready to let go just yet, and Mark responded by gently rocking them side to side for a few moments. And Jack had never felt so safe, so protected in his entire life.

The hug didn't last nearly as long as Jack would have liked it to. He almost reluctantly released his grasp on Mark's shoulders, and opened his orbs to look at Mark again. They were now that familiar, sky blue that Mark had grown to love and appreciate, due to the endless void that often stole his eyes' gorgeous colour. Mark smiled to himself, and breathed a shaky sigh as Jack looked at him curiously; wondering why he seemed so relieved compared to just moments ago. He noticed the streaks of water running down his cheeks, but also took note of the tight grin on his lips.

He seemed sadly, happy.

"Mark, why are you crying? I-I'm the crybaby out of us two."

Mark sniffled, but giggled quietly. "Have you even seen my let's plays? I cry at the stupidest of shit."

They shared a laugh together, and were quick to forget the previous topic. However, the image of Jack's black eyes sprang to Mark's mind again, and his laughter faded away while Jack's smile faltered.

"W-What's wrong?" Jack asked, sounding somewhat nervous.

Mark gnawed at his lip, unsure if he should tell Jack what had just happened. But, he then remembered that a couple of minutes ago Jack had told him everything that had happened the previous night, without leaving anything out. So, he decided to do the same, and be completely honest with Jack. He needed to know.

"Jack, your eyes... They were black again."

Confusion was replaced by terror as Jack opened his mouth in shock and stared at Mark, as if daring him to say that was a lie. But when Mark didn't say anything, Jack felt absolutely petrified; he hadn't even sensed Anti's presence that time.

**_You know why though, don't you?_ **

Jack remained silent, and pretended he didn't hear him. Mark, on the other hand, could recognise that expression anywhere. He was hearing voices. Anti's voice, to be precise.

"What's he saying?" Mark asked softly, afraid of scaring Jack any further.

He received no immediate response, but Jack somehow managed to work up the courage a few seconds later to repeat what Anti had told him.

"He said I know why my eyes turned... black, again."

"Well, do you?"

Jack closed his eyes once more, but opened them to reveal black orbs that radiated complete soullessness.

"Of course I know. It's because we're **_both_** **_the_** **_same._** "

And just as quickly as they had appeared, Jack's dark eyes disappeared as soon as he blinked. He shook his head vigorously, and slapped his forehead harshly; as if he was trying to wake up. He acted like he only just realised Mark was there, and he awkwardly stared at the ground while Mark got up out of bed. But when Mark actually stood up next to him, he rushed out of the room, and bolted down the hallway. And Mark was completely clueless as to why Jack had left him.

**_Mark?_ **

Mark flinched when he heard Dark's voice, but in the end decided to listen to what he had to say.

**_Keep an eye on Jack. Anti's pushing his luck._ **


	18. Disappearances

_What's that supposed to mean?_

But he never received a response. Mark just stood there, unsure of what to do. Follow Jack and ask him if he's alright? Or let him have a moment to collect his thoughts?

Then another thought crossed Mark's mind. What was he going to do about Anti and Dark? Jack was only supposed to come over for a week, and so far his 'break' had been far from stressless. What were they going to do when Jack went back to Ireland?

With this newly arisen question prodding his thoughts, he decided to check on Jack instead of leaving him to his own devices. He needed to discuss with him how they were going to sort this whole ideal out. It wasn't exactly something they could share with any of their other friends.

He walked out of his own bedroom drearily and down the hallway to Jack's, where a slither of light could be seen visible beneath the door closing off the room to the rest of the house. He paused slightly before opening it, wondering if knocking was a better option considering the state of mind Jack had just been in. Regardless, he ignored that option as he swiftly opened the door to see Jack's back facing him.

His body tensed as Mark entered the room, and he slowly slid his hand under the sheets as discreetly as he could manage without drawing Mark's attention to his hidden limb. He dropped his head as Mark walked over and sat down next to him, completely oblivious to the hand hidden underneath the sheets. And for that, Jack was incredibly thankful. He didn't want to explain to Mark why there was a knife in his bed.

While casually removing his arm from the covers, he placed his hands on his lap as he avoided Mark's questioning eyes.

"Why'd ya follow me?"

His words were harsh, as if he was telling Mark off for being concerned about him. It was then Mark regretted checking up on Jack.

"I was just..."

Jack rose his eyebrows, almost impatiently, as he waited for him to continue. But he never did.

"I'm fine, Mark. Now could you leave me alone, please?"

When he didn't move from his position on the bed, Jack's eyes subconsciously fell on the slight lump in the sheets where he had hidden the knife.

"I need a moment to think about what I've done."

Mark, seemingly convinced by this statement, left the room sombrely; he obviously didn't want to leave Jack alone, especially after the previous night. But he respected his friend's wishes nonetheless, and left him to his own devices. He was obviously unaware of the thought process Jack's mind was trapped in.

As soon as Mark's footsteps could be heard downstairs, Jack made his way to the door and gently closed it. A little squeak was the only sound the door made as it closed softly, and Jack made sure to lock it before sitting back down on the bed.

As he slid the knife out from under the covers, he picked it up almost delicately in his shaking hands. His fingers traced the curve of the blade, admiring its many uses. It could cause pain, and it could relieve pain. Like last time. Right?

Uncertainty clouded his reasoning as he tried to think of any other ways of dealing with everything. Maybe he should apologise to Mark and ask him for help with his situation? He was in a similar boat to him with Dark, after all. But then again, he wasn't really there.

He wasn't there to watch Jack slaughter his victims. He wasn't there when he cut them all into little pieces and buried their remains in scattered holes. He wasn't even _really_ there when he had to drag Mark's unconscious body to his car as well as drive him home, before struggling to carry him to his bedroom and tuck him under the covers. He was only there when Anti had been watching over him, hoping that Dark had been victorious with the battle against his own mind.

He was only there to see the black eyes. Not the blue ones who had done everything up until that point.

That thought was what eventually made him raise his long sleeves and cut vigorously into his pale wrists, the faded scars from last time reminding him that it had worked before, and it will work again. He will feel better afterwards, once he had been punished for what he'd done. It would ease his conscience. It had to.

But it didn't. He kept cutting, waiting to feel alleviated from his worries, forgiven for his sins. He was given no closure whatsoever as he continued to spill his own black-spotted blood, and there was no one to stop him from permanently damaging himself. Even as his vision blurred and his head felt heavy, he continued cutting until he physically couldn't drag the knife over his skin anymore.

His upper body collapsed onto the bed as he lost consciousness, and his black-and-red coloured blood leaked out onto the sheets, forever staining them with evidence of his actions.

〰

Mark looked over at the clock impatiently, expecting Jack to come bounding down the stairs at any moment now. Six hours ago he'd left him alone in his room, and he hadn't as much as touched the stairs, as Mark would have heard footsteps otherwise. Curious as to why Jack was spending so much time on the second floor, he turned the TV off and headed towards the stairs, not really trying to cover up his presence to surprise Jack.

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed almost immediately that Jack's door had been left wide open. He peered his head around the door, and saw a sight he never thought he'd see in his own home. Blood splattered the white sheets on the bed, and a black substance appeared to be mixed with the bodily fluid itself.

But the thing that scared Mark most of all, was the fact that Jack was nowhere to be seen.


	19. Thoughts

Mark nearly had a panic attack right there and then when he failed to find Jack in his room. He then decided to check around the house to ensure he had indeed left the property, otherwise he would have been jumping to conclusions that he was in a perilous situation.

Oh, who was he kidding? There was a mass amount of blood in his friend's room that lacked a body it belonged to!

Just as he was about to give up on his search through the house, he noticed something... odd. His cutlery drawer was left wide open, and he clearly remembered Dark closing it last night when he retrieved a knife...

_Oh God no._

Was this the work of Anti? No, it couldn't be. When he last saw Jack, he was, well, Jack. Not Anti. He would have seen him come down the stairs if he'd retrieved a knife while Mark was watching TV. But then, how was the cutlery drawer open, the bedsheets stained with blood and Jack himself missing?

He then walked around the corner of the room to see the front door wide open.

_That was definitely closed ten minutes ago._

It was then that Mark came to the conclusion that Jack, or Anti, had left the house very recently. He could have possibly left the room, or even the upstairs area, while Mark was gawking at the bloody covers. That would explain why he didn't hear the front door open as he left.

But, how did the sheets get this much blood on them in the first place? He was almost definite that only a knife could draw this much without making a huge ruckus.

_When did I leave Jack alone long enough for him to find a knife?_

It could have been when he was unconscious. He was still unaware of how long he'd been out of it, but he suspected it had been for a couple of hours. That's plenty of time for Jack to take a knife out of the kitchen without him knowing about it.

So now, only two questions remained, if you ignore the insignificant query about how he got from the streets of L.A to his bedroom earlier. Why there was blood in Jack's room, and where Jack could have possibly disappeared to.

Both questions bothered him intensely.

He couldn't even explain it himself, but the thought of Jack's scarred body flooded his mind instantaneously without any context whatsoever. This imagery made him question his subconscious, but he quickly put two and two together to come up with a possible theory as to what happened.

_He didn't hurt himself again... Did he?_

As much as Mark didn't want to believe it, it made more and more sense the more he thought about it. The blood in Jack's room could only possibly be his; there was no other explanation. So that left one question unanswered.

Where did he go?

Mark, in a slight state of panic, grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked to make sure Jack hadn't sent him a text message explaining where he was. But he had no such luck. He nearly threw the phone at the wall in frustration, but ended up shoving it back into his pants when he realised a cracked screen wouldn't alleviate him of his stress.

He rushed to the front door and debated on leaving the household to find him. He couldn't have gotten away too far from the area. And if he hurried, he might find him before-

**_He's already killed, Mark._ **

Silence. It consumed him. It ate away at his thoughts, and his emotions. The gentle breeze was even silent. A crushing silent. The kind of silent that closed you off from the rest of the world, one that trapped you within your own mind. Because Mark could have sworn Dark was right beside him, instead of just a voice in his head. It had seemed too real.

His arms hung low by his sides, and his head dropped in defeat. He hadn't even exited the doorframe, and he was already too late. Too late to help his best friend. Too late to stop a murderer.

Anger boiled in his veins. He was furious at Anti, for just existing and making Jack's life constantly miserable. He was furious at Jack as well, as he'd thought once again that hurting himself was the only way he could feel better about killing people. But most of all, he was furious with himself.

He was too late. And now, Jack was paying the price for it.

Mark couldn't imagine the scenes Jack must have witnessed. Unlike Dark, Anti didn't let Jack forget about some of the blood. He made him witness everything. He had the power to shut Jack out, to make him unable to see anything. But yet, Anti forced him to watch. That was just the kind of malicious person he was.

He leant back against the wall, and grasped his head with his hands. He told himself again and again that Jack was fine, he was good, he would come back, he would be _okay_. But deep down, a dark thought had made itself prominent. There was no end to this.

Mark and Jack would have to live with their counterparts, for as long as they were alive. There was no way to get rid of them, as that would basically be similar to removing a part of their brain; whether they liked it or not, Dark and Anti were parts of them. Pieces of them they couldn't live without. Mark and Jack were just extremely unfortunate that their other sides had been awoken from within.

Too absorbed in his own thoughts, Mark failed to notice the mass of bright, green hair standing just outside of the doorframe. It wasn't until it spoke that he realised someone was there.

"Hi, Mark."

"Jesus fuck!" Mark yelled as his eyes set on Anti. He could recognise those black, soulless eyes anywhere. He had a pair of his own, after all.

"Relax, buddy! Everything's all good."

There was an eeriness to his voice, as if it was slightly distorted. It wasn't very obvious, but it was certainly different from the last time they'd talked.

"N-No, it's not. You've killed someone, I know you have!"

Anti shushed him. "Not so loud. People will hear."

He reached his arm out from behind him, and closed the front door slowly. Mark took note of the bloody knife in his hand, and the speckles of black and red that richly coated his fingers. There was no denying it now. Anti had killed somebody in the space of fifteen minutes.

"Dark, did you tell him that? I thought I told you not to!"

**_Don't answer him. He'll get bored of you soon enough._ **

Mark pretended to ignore Anti. _Does that mean Jack will have control soon?_

**_Basically, yes. Just don't answer him._ **

"Mark, you're no fun. I can't get any kind of reaction out of you. At least I can make Jack cry..."

A confused and dazzled expression replaced the pouty one instantaneously, but the black eyes remained.

So did the voice.

"Oh my fucking God, I let it happen again."

Mark was incredibly confused. It sounded like something Jack would say, but he had Anti's voice and eyes.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

So that settled it. He was speaking to Jack, in Anti's body. At least, he thought so. He really did at least hope so, and that it wasn't just a cruel joke done by Anti.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Mark stated emotionally. "I'm in the same boat as you. I've got Dark to deal with, so please don't think you're on your own in this."

There was no response. Mark, thinking that it was a way to comfort and reassure him, leant in towards Jack for a hug; only to be pushed abruptly backwards by rough, forceful hands.

"Ok, forget about me saying you have no reactions. Your face is priceless right now!"

Mark, to be honest, had just felt his heart squeeze. He had hoped so desperately that it had been Jack, and not just Anti playing with him. But, he should have realised that any opportunity Anti got to muck around with his thoughts and feelings, he'd take.

"Dark, you're not finding this funny?" Anti asked, a hint of insanity in his eyes.

After waiting a moment for Dark's response in his mind, Anti shook his head knowingly and giggled to himself.

"You think I pretended to be Jack? Nah, that was actually him. We're beginning to blend together, you know? It won't be much longer now..."

He cast a pitiful look onto Mark, but something told him Anti wasn't pitying the one in control.

"You're gonna have to work pretty hard to crack him, Dark. I almost feel sorry for you that you didn't get as easy a person as Jack to manipulate. But I know you're fully capable of taking him on."


	20. Conclusions

Mark could only stand there, baffled. What was Dark and Anti's purpose? Why did they kill people, for fun by the looks of it, when they gained control of Mark or Jack's body?

_Why do they exist?_

Anti hadn't moved from his position by the door. In fact, he hadn't even blinked. His black eyes were fixated on the ground, but they were unmoving. As if they were seeing something that wasn't really there.

Suddenly, they blinked. Harshly. Colour swirled into his eyes, a blue that may as well have been the entire rainbow to Mark. However, the rest of his body remained still.

His lips were moving now. Muttering something to himself, something Mark couldn't hear.

"Jack?"

"I'm a monster!" Jack yelled abruptly, his limbs then beginning to shake violently.

"Jack, it's fine. You're with me; Mark. Anti's gone-"

"No he's not! He always here," he pointed to his own head. "Always watching..."

"Look, we'll figure out a solution to this. There has to be a way to get rid of them, or at least a way to block them-"

Jack's face scrunched up in frustration. "How long do you expect it'll take to 'figure this out'? They're inside our fuckin' heads, Mark! We can't just get rid of them!"

"But there must be a way-"

"Just shut up! You're always so positive about these kinds of things, that you forget to be realistic. They are a _part of us_. A half of us that we can't get rid of, that we cannot _live_ without. You just need to accept that there is no positive answer to any of this."

It was like he'd just given up. That after months of fighting him off, and denying he was Anti, Jack had just given up. For what reason, Mark couldn't be sure. But this new attitude wasn't his Jack. The Jackaboy he knew wouldn't shut down any forms of positivity. It was as if he was a completely different person from the guy he was five days ago.

"I can see your point of view Jack, believe me. But we can't just let them win. We'll get through this together, ok?"

No response yet again. Jack seemed to like giving Mark the silent treatment as of lately.

"I promise."

Jack's face dropped as he walked several steps towards Mark and stood directly in front of him, almost threateningly.

"Oh, you and your fuckin' promises!"

And he punched Mark. Right on the nose, where it was already slightly swollen from the previous night. It was a solid punch too, as Jack had not held back one bit through the action.

And it felt good to relieve his violent nature.

Jack was smiling. He'd punched his friend, his best friend, the sole person who could even relate to his issues, and he was smiling. Broadly, too. He'd enjoyed that punch; hearing the crack of his knuckles against his friend's face satisfied his ears immensely.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Anti was cackling. And Jack felt like joining in too. It was laughable how quickly Mark's expression had changed from curiosity to complete disbelief in a matter of seconds.

He'd probably lost all of his trust in Jack. Because of a punch? Was Mark really that wimpy? Did he lose faith in every one of his friends that punched him?

Then again, none of his friends had ever punched him maliciously.

Jack's smile dropped, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. There was even blood running down Mark's face, a face that was frozen in time. He was still in shock; Jack would never hurt anybody, not even a fly.

And yet he had killed the innocent.

It was at that moment Jack came to a startling conclusion.

_**I'm a monster.** _

Jack and Anti's voice had merged in his head. They were now one continuous stream of sound, a sound that seemed otherworldly. Distorted. It sounded _wrong_.

But Jack had barely noticed. He'd just accepted it, and moved on. It didn't matter what eye colour he had; he was a monster, no matter what side was in control.

And Mark had seen both sides at their worst.

Jack didn't speak as he moved away from Mark. And Mark didn't move as Jack left him. As soon as his footsteps could be heard upstairs, the tense atmosphere dissipated just as quickly as it had arrived. Mark gingerly lifted his fingers to his bruised and bloody nose, and delicately wiped the fluid from his face in an attempt to do something. _Anything_.

He couldn't stand there forever in shock.

But Jack had punched him. No. That wasn't 'Jacksepticeye', the sweet, bubbly, energetic Irishman the world knew him as. Sean William McLoughlin had punched him. He'd shown his true colours, after all of this time. And Mark was the only one to have witnessed it. But, surely there was some sort of catch? Maybe Anti was actually in control, or influencing his decisions?

Yes. That had to be it. Mark couldn't accept the fact that Sean had punched him, it was too surreal to believe. So he tried to find any excuse for his friend's behaviour; any excuse that would shine him in a good light, and not a bloody handprint.

Even though he knew Sean was to blame, he threw it at Anti all the same.

**_I want to make something very clear, Mark._ **

Dark was speaking again. Ever since he'd been in control, he'd been a lot more talkative and open about his thoughts. Mark, although weary of his words, found his voice almost comforting to hear every once in a while. It reminded him that Jack wasn't alone in any of this, and that he could relate to Jack's problems; even if it was to a lesser extent.

**_A couple of minutes ago you asked yourself why Anti and I exist. Well, the answer to that is, we don't know. We're purposeless. We're just parts of you two that are trapped within our own minds, occasionally having the need to shed blood for no other reasons than the fact that we need to. For if we didn't, you'd suffer._ **

Mark remained silent as Dark continued his explanation.

**_I realise I'm a killer. A ruthless murderer who spills other's blood, just because it hurts him if he doesn't. I know I'm evil. And I can't change that. But my life, which in a way is yours, matters to me. I want to live. I like being alive. And so does Anti._ **

**_But unlike him, I don't enjoy other's suffering. I do it only because I have to, not because I want to._ **

**_That's the main difference between him and I. It's why Jack's suffering more than you are, because despite what you think, I do care. About you, and Jack._ **

**_But Anti doesn't care. He's only thought of Jack as a victim, as a person he can mess around with and practically become over time. And I'd never do that to you._ **

**_You see, the main difference between you and Jack is that you want to get through this._ **

**_Jack just wants it to end._ **

It couldn't have been ten minutes since Mark last saw Jack that he heard a scream. In a frenzied state, Mark sprinted up the staircase into Jack's room, where the door was closed and unfortunately, locked. He could hear moans of pain and choking sobs from inside, which motivated him further to unlock the door as quickly as possible.

He would be wasting time if he picked the lock, so he began frantically kicking the door in an attempt to get to Jack faster. The doorframe rattled at each pound of his foot, and although the sobs had died down in volume, they were still present in the room.

Then, there was another piercing scream.

Mark could only imagine what Anti was doing to Jack inside the room. With more determination than ever, he slammed his body into the door multiple times, each try leaving splinters of wood in his shoulder and torso. It took about seven slams into the door before it finally flung off its hinges and opened to reveal Jack sitting upright against the bedhead, with a bloody knife on the sheets next to his own dried blood from earlier.

What frightened Mark the most however, was the blood pouring from both of his eyes.

"Oh my fucking God, Jack! What the fuck happened to you?!"

Mark rushed over to Jack side, who jerked his head violently towards Mark. But he couldn't see him. He couldn't see anything.

His eye sockets were a mess of blood and the strange, black substance that had been made apparent in his bloodstream for days now. Jack was gasping for breath, as if he was struggling to draw oxygen into his lungs. He was also wailing miserably from the pain, but there were no tears. There were no eyes to cry from.

He'd cut his own eyes out. Blinded himself, purposely and without the aid of Anti. He'd done it by his own choice.

"Jack, what the fuck happened?!"

Mark was shocked, panicked and most prominently, scared. Scared of what made Jack want to blind himself permanently, to remove the privilege of sight forever from his body. What could possibly motivate him to do this, Mark had no clue. He only knew Jack was desperate enough to give up the ability to see to do it.

A fierce cough came from Jack as his whole body convulsed with the awful sound. Speckles of black and red appeared on his hand as he covered his mouth, and Mark saw Jack's expression change from solely painful to, well, content in a matter of seconds. Like he was happy with what was happening, and that he had accepted the fact that he'd stolen the gift of vision from himself.

"I can't see you, Mark," Jack whispered hoarsely, his face still scrunched up in agony.

"I-I know, Jack, I know. B-But, why? Why w-would you d-do this to y-yourself?"

Jack slid a bit further down the bed and breathed out shakily. "My eyes were no longer my own. I deserved this."

Mark couldn't believe what Jack was saying. Just because his eyes changed colour when Anti was in control, meant that Jack felt like he needed to get rid of his ability to see? It made no sense. There had to be another reason. There just, had to be. Mark couldn't bear to think that was the sole reason for his actions.

"Hey Mark? Please don't do what I've done... You're strong, and you can fight off Dark. I know you can. Just please, don't do it."

Mark looked at him side on with a confused expression written on his features. "W-What are you talking about? I'm not g-going to make myself blind just because Dark's in m-my head!"

"I'm weak, Mark. You need to understand that. You're stronger than me..."

His body slumped sideways slightly as Jack slid further down the bed. He was drawing in gaping breathes, with each one taking up more and more effort than the last to complete.

"I just wish I could see you one last time... You've made this whole thing more bearable to deal with."

"Y-You'll be fine, Jack! I-I'll get you t-to the hospital and y-you'll be fine. You'll b-be better. Ok? I-I'll call an ambulance r-right now!"

He hastily looked around the room for Jack's phone, which was beside the pack of painkillers Mark had placed on the bedside table a couple of nights ago.

"H-Here, have a couple of tablets-"

"There's no point in calling an ambulance, Mark," Jack muttered as Mark picked up the pack of drugs. But it was empty. There were no tablets left inside, when only a few nights ago it had been completely full.

And Mark knew he hadn't taken any recently.

When Jack heard the crumple of the empty painkiller packets, his expression turned to one of guilt and sadness. He knew what he'd done, and he understood the consequences of his decisions.

"J-Jack, please don't tell me..."

A subtle nod was all that Mark got in response as his friend's body slumped even further sideways. Mark reached out and pulled him upright again, so that he was closer to his disfigured face. He hopped up onto the bed and pulled Jack into the tightest hug he'd ever given anybody, ever.

"Why Jack?! Nobody can help you now, you fucking idiot!"

Jack smiled slightly and hugged Mark back, his breaths becoming shallower and shallower with every passing moment.

His voice was no more than a murmur, as it was the loudest he could manage without causing an onslaught of unnecessary pain. "Please don't think this is the answer, Mark. You're stronger than me, you always have been, so please don't do what I've done."

Tears streamed freely down Mark's face as he hung onto his best friend dearly, the other's grasp on his shoulders already weakening to the point that they could no longer hold on. His hands fell off of his friend's body and Mark could only watch as Jack's own heartbeat slowed down substantially.

"Don't leave me Jack! You can't do this to me!"

But Jack was already slipping. Mark's voice was incredibly muffled, and every gasp of air he took felt laboured and stole all of the energy that remained in him.

"You're strong, Mark. You'll get through this..."

Those were the last words he ever got to say. There was so much more he had hoped to talk about, to explain to Mark that he wasn't at fault for his choice. He just hoped that his note covered everything he had to tell Mark. Four minutes was not nearly enough time to say what he wanted in person, but the previous ten minutes alone had been just enough to finish writing everything. He just hoped Mark found it before anybody else did.

And as Jack drew his final breath, all Mark could do was watch in horror.

"SEAN!"

〰

There were two notes written on Jack's phone in his final moments, which confirmed that he had killed himself intentionally; not just through an accidental overdose of painkillers. The first one was directed at everyone he cared about; his family, friends, and viewers.

Mark couldn't help but read it again, even though he'd managed to memorise it from how many times he'd scanned the same words over in the past year.

_To my family,  
I love you all dearly. You mean so much to me, and you've been so supportive of me and my career, and just my life in general. I was blessed to have a family like you, so please don't blame yourselves for what I've done. You were the best family I could have hoped for._

_To my friends,  
I know a lot of you are going to think that you could've helped me, and that you should've been able to see the signs and comfort me and all that bullshit. The truth is, nobody could have done anything to change my mind. It's none of your faults that I've done this. Please, just accept that it was my choice, and that none of you could have done anything to stop it. Don't blame yourselves for this._

_To my fans,  
I know I'm not living up to my words by doing this, but if you ever feel like you need to do what I've done, keep fighting. Please. I cannot stress enough how important your life is. You all deserve to live. Please, please don't think that suicide is the only option left for you to take. I know I'm not exactly the best role model anymore, but I can only beg of you to seek help, and find people that care enough about you to help you through the tough times. Things will get better; maybe not now, but eventually. Just keep fighting. I believe in each and every one of you._

Mark felt his eyes watering as he finished reading the note. Jack never explained to anyone in this letter why he killed himself; it was just a note full of apologies and quotes. But God, were they powerful. It sounded like something Jack would say, if he were still there.

The second note, however, only Mark knew about. He'd managed to go through Jack's phone before anybody else and get the note addressed to him copied onto his own device before anybody else could read it. He'd deleted it, as well as a video of Jack he'd emailed himself, before anybody else could find them.

Before anybody could figure out the truth.

He opened up the hidden file on his phone and read through the note addressed to him once again; he was going to need all of the willpower he could muster to get through the night.

_To Mark,  
Please understand why I did this. I couldn't keep living like this; always afraid of losing control and going on a killing rampage because I could. No other reason for it. The moment I punched you, I realised me and Anti weren't that different from each other. We both got a rush of adrenaline from violence, and we both found pleasure in another's pain. And I hated myself for it. It was a guilty pleasure to me; killing people. I never admitted it to anybody before now though... Not even to myself._

_At first, I couldn't stand it. Seeing other's lives fade before my eyes made me scream at myself afterwards for not doing anything. That's why I cut myself. I needed to punish myself for just, letting Anti kill innocent people._

_Suddenly though, I gave up. I realised he controlled my every move, because he was a part of me. Not just a random voice in my head; he was a side of me that I was completely and utterly afraid of. So I basically gave him power over me by not resisting anymore._

_But then you came along, Mark. You made my life bearable, and liveable. You made me realise that I wasn't the only one out there suffering from this. I'll forever be grateful for the compassion and sympathy you showed for me, even though I was out there killing people. You made me briefly happy with my life, and let me believe I could control this force within my soul._

_But when I killed Em and Riley, everything suddenly became clear. There was no end to this. No end to the murders, or the suffering, or the bloodlust. And I couldn't handle it. You know why? Because I'm weak. I couldn't stand the thought of other innocent people being in pain because of me; of their lives being taken by someone who had no right to do so. So, I resorted to this. Because I couldn't control my 'bad side'._

_Because I couldn't control myself._

_Truth be told, the other note, the one addressed to my family, friends and fans, was written a while ago. I'd been considering this option for a while now. I'd end my awful influence in this world, and allow others to not suffer from my actions. Anti just laughed when I wrote it originally. He said I wasn't strong enough to follow through with it. But when I started writing this, he panicked. He suddenly realised that I was serious when I held the pills to my mouth and swallowed them all whole._

_He's screaming right now as I'm writing this. He wants to live, but he knows he can't. I've doomed our existence in this world._

_He thought killing myself would be the stronger option, the one that required more will and courage. But really, it was the cowardice one. Really, I just wanted everything to stop._

_So please Mark, don't do what I've done. I saw in you a strength I've never had when you regained control against Dark.  That required will and courage. And I firmly believe you can live with this burden. You will make it, Mark. You can handle it. And if you ever feel like you can't do it anymore for your friends, your fans and your family, then do it for me._

_Prove to me that taking the high road was the courageous, and righteous option. Show me how much you'll struggle, only to get back up on your feet. I believe in you Mark. And I hope that's enough to keep you alive._

_-Sean :)  
(God, that's the fastest I've ever typed in my life!)_

Mark chuckled to himself slightly at the last line; it was such a 'Jack' thing to say. He considered watching the video again too, but realised that would probably just depress him instead of encourage him for the moments to come.

He knew he had to record this video. He was already behind schedule from the splitting headaches he'd had the previous day, and the vomiting he'd had the previous week that his fans thought was only the result of a stomach bug. If only they knew the truth.

He turned to face the camera. He knew Dark was lurking, and waiting to spring up on him at any moment. They had a neutral relationship; they didn't exactly get along at the best of times, but they certainly tolerated each other. And in a way, Mark pitied Dark.

No one should have to kill people to sate an inhuman thirst for violence regularly.

**_Are you sure you want to record right now, Mark?_ **

He was trying to mess with his judgement. Make him doubt himself, and the capabilities he had to resist the temptation of bloodlust. But Mark wasn't going to fall for it.

Sure, he'd slipped up a couple of times, but he hadn't murdered anybody since Antisepticeye had been around. In a way, it made him think that even after a year of solitary struggles, he was still going strong. For Jack.

He would always keep going for Jack.

The same sentence he'd said a year ago echoed throughout his thoughts as he set up the video game he was about to play: "We can't just let them win."

He'd said that to Jack, on the last day that he was alive. And he was going to follow through with that statement. And while Jack might not still be there in person, his spirit certainly remained with Mark; through the notes, and the video.

The video especially.

So as he pressed record, and his headache amplified in pain, he smiled for the camera. For his audience, and all the people he cared about. He would hide the pain he was going through.

For Jack.


End file.
